


Must Drench to Numb

by boxofhatebrains



Series: Must Drench To Numb [1]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst and Feels, Armchair Therapy, Cheating, Emotionally Repressed, M/M, Minor Violence, Not Gundam Wing: Frozen Teardrop Compliant, Post-War, Psychology, Sex, Sexual Repression, Soul-Searching, Swearing, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 71,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofhatebrains/pseuds/boxofhatebrains
Summary: One of the pilots is gay. Now married and living "happily ever after" he must make this discovery and keep this secret on his own.
Relationships: Duo Maxwell/Heero Yuy, Duo Maxwell/Hilde Schbeiker, Heero Yuy/Original Male Characters(s), Relena Peacecraft/Heero Yuy
Series: Must Drench To Numb [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192520
Comments: 61
Kudos: 37





	1. Part 1

_...now he's counting time in beggings and bottles fading away beneath old news so he's lost some faith, but still there are fire deep inside that he must drench to numb ...deep inside, that he must drench to numb... -_ "circles" by Pain of Salvation

Here, at the altar, everything looks so different. Looking around at the people that I've seen bloodied and sweaty, now shining and beautiful. And all smiling for me, for this day. This is the happiest day of my life, or supposed to be. In a way, it is. This moment, I have the groundwork of a normal life. I am about to have a wife, possibly children. I am going to be loved by a person, a friend, that I admire and want to protect more than anyone else. And by doing this, by promising her forever, I can. I do love her, I do.

I do.

Guests applaud when our lips touch, gently and barely there.

Man and wife. Me and Relena.

Part 1

I've never been one for parties, so the reception isn't that exciting. Except the best man's speech. I find that oddly touching.  
  
As Duo stands up, I prepare for humor, we all do. Most already have a smile on their face, ready for a punch line. Relena is softly smiling, but ready to scold Duo for some joke at her expense.  
  
Duo smiles, too, but it's different. It's some kind of emotion that I'm not acquainted with.  
  
"When Heero asked me to be the best man, I thought to myself, 'he's gotta be kidding me, I shot him twice the first time I met him!'"  
  
He pauses for the laughter that we all know was imminent.  
  
"But I accepted, with out much thought. Later, though, when I was thinking about it, I remember what Trowa once said to me, 'Heero always thinks things out to the end.' Something like that. And I began to wonder why _I_ was chosen and what was going on in his head.  
  
"Well, I started to think about how we all met and our past. As many know, if not all, we met on the battlefield. All of us did, pretty much, and we all connected from there. I began to realize all the complicated weavings. If it hadn't been for that war, I would have never met Heero, that's true, but I never would have met Quatre at all. I mean, we come from such different backgrounds, we never would have met. And if not for the war, Wufei would have still been on L5 still, and Trowa still fighting on Earth. Relena would have been outta my league. Hilde wouldn't have known a rogue like me and maybe never would have given me the time of day."  
  
Some more people chuckle as he looks fondly at her before continuing, "That war was horrible. It took away people from me, people that I loved. For a very long time, I was very angry. I blamed the war for every misfortune that happened to me. When I didn't eat for days, it was because of the war. When I didn't have a blanket at night to sleep with, it was the war. I stubbed my toe, and it was the war's fault. Everything. But now...Looking back, all of those heartaches were sacrifices, for something better.  
  
"I now have friends that I will never lose, a fiance that makes me incredibly happy", at this point he looks at me, "and a best friend that I love like a brother."  
  
"And because of the war, he now has a wife, people who care about him, and a dopey best friend that makes really long speeches for his wedding."  
  
Every one laughs now, except for me because all the words are sinking, _actually sinking into me_ , like I'm absorbing them. I feel them inside me, warming me. My heart beats harder and swells.   
  
"But let me get to my point before Relena sics one of her body guards on me; just all those thoughts in my head, I realized something that wasn't so apparent then. Maybe no one realized it then, but Trowa was right. Heero always thinks it out. When I was going to be killed by Oz, Heero was there. If he was the perfect soldier that he was supposed to be, he would have shot me right then and there because I would burden him and the mission. But he didn't, he got me out. He gave me the life I have now.  
  
"And Quatre told me once that when Trowa was missing, Heero did everything to find him. Heero was the one trying to bring us back together, time after time. When Relena was kidnapped, Heero jumped right in. Quatre was right, in a way, Heero is the glue between us. He always brought us back together...  
  
"And now, he's ready for another kind of journey through life, one that we can help him on, but can't be a part of. This is a path that he and Relena will travel their whole lives. I hope every step makes you both happy and as complete as our journey has made each of us, all thanks to you, Heero."  
  
He raises his glass and every one follows suit.  
  
"Thank you for giving all of us our perfect ending, and I'm glad that you've found yours. To Heero and Relena, I hope your years of marriage are full of happiness and love."  
  
Every one toasts us, toasts our love. Relena sips her glass and I, mine, but watch Duo as he laughs at something Wufei says and sits back down next to Hilde...  
  
There's tremendous joy at hearing those words, words that I know came straight from Duo's heart. And yet, there's this overwhelming sorrow and guilt.   
  
My perfect ending?...I suppose it is. I guess this is where I was meant to end up. This does seem perfect. The princess weds her knight. The pacifist calms the soldier's heart. It sounds so beautiful and perfect.  
  
I feel a little sick.   
  
There's a hand on my arm, gently squeezing. I turn to find Relena and she does look beautiful.  
  
"Heero?" her voice is concerned, "Are you all right? You look...well, is there something wrong?"  
  
This is what she deserves.  
  
"No", I assure her, "It's just that I don't like parties, you know that."  
  
Her faces lightens and she tugs on my tux sleeve slightly, "Oh, don't be a grump. It's our _wedding_ reception. All the people here are our loved ones, not boring politicians like usual."  
  
I nod slightly because she's right.  
  
"Heero", her voice softens, "dance with me?"  
  
How can I refuse? She's my wife - _wife_. I struggle to become accustomed to that. She is Relena Peacecraft-Yuy.   
  
So, I guide her to the dance floor and we dance. There are pictures taken and make it seem even more surreal with the bright flashes of light.  
  
After two dances, Duo cuts in.  
  
"Hey, can I borrow your wife for a dance? You can borrow my fiance", he grins impishly and adds, "In fact, you can have her."  
  
"Duo", Hilde chides, "You keep talking like that and you can do the dishes!"  
  
"I forgot to mention that she can wash dishes", he continues on, to me, like she never interjected, "But she's a _terrible_ cook!"  
  
At that, every one laughs. Well, Trowa smiles and Wufei scoffs, but the feeling's there, the warmth. But it all feels so forced, so scripted. It's supposed to be happy and friendly, but just sounds rehearsed to me. But I can tell I'm the only one feeling this way.  
  
I let Duo dance with Relena as I dance with Hilde. By the end of the night, every one, even Wufei, has danced with my bride.  
  
I watch her and Quatre dance as Wufei leans against the wall next to me.  
  
"It's odd, isn't it?" he asks suddenly.  
  
I glance back at him, but don't verbally question him.  
  
"Suddenly she's your wife...It feels odd, doesn't it?" he elucidates, but with a sullen expression. I wonder if he's drunk.  
  
"I felt that way, too", he says slowly, looking at Relena, not me, before quickly adding, "But of course I wasn't in love with her like you're in love with Relena. But it fills some place that was empty, doesn't it?"  
  
I don't reply and he doesn't continue on that thought. I don't ask him what he meant because I can tell it's personal and he's a very personal man. I don't want him to regret any thing later when he's more sober.  
  
"Trowa's met someone", he informs me suddenly and it does surprise me, "Cathy just told me, here, right now. He's been going out with her for quite some time. And Quatre's seeing some one, too."  
  
All this information feels weird, feels like a shoe that doesn't fit right. Feels a little wrong.  
  
"He was set up with her and I guess they've hit it off", he continues, before adding in a shocked tone, "And here I always thought he was gay."  
  
It's hard to swallow, or to move, or to breathe. I just listen. I just hear Wufei above all the music and quiet laughter, and watch my wife dance gracefully in Quatre's arms - Quatre's heterosexual arms.  
  
"He does seem it, doesn't he? Gay, I mean", he asks me and waits for a reply, finally looking at me.  
  
"It never mattered to me", I slowly say and hope that it's what he's looking for.  
  
"I guess", he agrees, reluctantly, "But I usually felt so awkward around him. Like I didn't know how to act. Maybe it wasn't with him being gay, maybe it's just him. He's easy to like, you know, maybe that was what was awkward."  
  
Okay, no more drinks for Wufei. After he's done with the one in his hand, he's drinking water.  
  
"But I thought it was him being gay", he adds quickly, "I don't know how to act around gays."  
  
I turn inside myself, feeling awkward and under the wrong skin.  
  
"Maybe I just don't know how to act around any one...", he concludes somberly. How he looks into his glass, I get afraid that he's going to start weeping. I think I'll have to excuse myself then.   
  
"How many drinks have you had?" I question him, diverting the attention, but apparently it doesn't work and he continues his drunken conversation.  
  
"The point is that people are finding people. Quatre, even Trowa, has some one. I think about it..."  
  
I turn to him and try to figure out what he's saying, _really_ saying.  
  
"Maybe I should try, right?" his glazed eyes look to me for guidance, "Just because I've lost one wife, I'd be a coward not to try again, right? I should go to Sally and accept her...right?"  
  
How do I get in these situations?  
  
"Do what you feel is right", I tell him, honestly, and stiffly pat his shoulder, "Do what your heart tells you to do."  
  
And then I leave him with that thought. I leave him with his emotional damage that I never knew existed.I leave him with hope, I think. I leave him, I just leave because his words are too candid for me to hear. Tonight is about withholding truth, not revealing it...  
  
XXX  
  
It's just two months after we are newly married that I find myself where I never thought I'd be. I thought the tapes would be enough. I thought the magazines would satisfy me. I thought that I could imagine and pretend and masturbate and be fine.  
  
But I'm not fine.   
  
I'm curious and hungry and lonely. I feel trapped inside my world and it's starting to affect our marriage. I need an outlet. I need to experience this, if just once. Just once and that's all.  
  
I don't know what I'm doing and I don't know how this works. I take a breath and look at the clubs and bars. In the darkness, the tattered rainbow flags seems almost menacing, not inviting. Should I really be here?

This could hurt Relena...  
  
No, this is for me, for now. This is _for_ the marriage. This is for everyone. Just a taste to see if this is what or who I am. I never had the chance to experiment with something like this. I was always training alone with J and after that, I met Relena. Plus, all the missions...I thought I didn't really need something like this. I could just ignore it. But I don't want to any more.

Maybe I can't any more. Maybe with life slowing down, standing still...I have to face this...I have nothing else to distract me.  
  
"Hey", I hear a voice behind me, so I turn. I see an attractive man behind me; approx. an inch shorter than me, dark blond hair, high cheeks bones, and slender. He looks some what like the lieutenant in "Cock Commando 2", but moves like Duo. He's very, very attractive.  
  
"Hey, you look a little familiar", he says, tilting his head to one side, "But I don't remember you from here."  
  
"Is that a pick up line?" I ask him, honestly, but he laughs.  
  
"It's not a very good one", he admits, "But seriously, I think I have...Do you want it to be a pick up line?"  
  
I'm not really sure what to say because this isn't what I'm used to. Is he saying that he wants to...wants to what? Have sex? Just oral sex? Rimming? What?  
  
"Don't worry about it", he smiles after I don't reply, "Hey, if I'm not your type, I'm not. It's just...you look really out of place."  
  
"It's my first time here...doing this", I confess because, for some reason, I don't want to act like an idiot with no good excuse in front of him. He's very, very attractive.  
  
"Oh", he smiles and nods, understanding, "Your first time at a gay club. Lucky me to find you first before an asshole does."  
  
"No", I correct him and add, "Ever. First time doing this."  
  
"You mean", his eyebrows flash up when he comprehends.  
  
I nod and hope I haven't blown any chance I could have gotten because I do like him and he is my type and I want to have sex with him. I'm just not sure the social cues.  
  
"Well...", he says after a few seconds, "What do you like? I mean, what's your type?"  
  
I'm not sure how to put this and feel pretty foolish. Maybe it wasn't a good idea coming here. I feel so out of place. I feel like I don't belong anywhere.  
  
"Hey", he says in a hushed tone that Duo sometimes uses, "why don't we go get some coffee? No offense, but you don't seem ready for this..."  
  
He is right and I feel like a bigger idiot that I actually am.  
  
"No", I tell him a little harsher than I meant, "Never mind."  
  
I start to walk away, and away from this private life that I have fantasized about. For the past weeks I've thought about coming here, meeting some one and finally having sex the way I want. Having another man be with me, maybe be inside me, I don't know. But I've ached and stewed about it and finally when I get here, I realize that I'm not really meant for here, either...  
  
Where do I belong?  
  
I notice an echo of shoes on pavement behind me and turn around to see "the lieutenant" walking with me.  
  
"Just come on", he pleads and smiles, widely, "Let's just go get something and talk."  
  
"Why?" I growl out and I realize bitterly that I'm lashing out because I'm embarrassed.  
  
"Because I know what you're going through and I had no one that would just grab a cup of coffee and just talk it out with me", he explains as we walk and there's so much emotion in his voice, "They were just willing to fuck me and be done with me. I don't want those assholes to play around with you."  
  
"You don't even know me", I point out and sharply glare at him.  
  
"Yeah, but I'm a nice guy by nature", he assures me and I feel bruised by his voice. He really reminds me of Duo and I feel bad about that. Dirty that I'd feel attracted to a guy that resembles my best friend. But it's just the looks, right? He's just very, very attractive.

"Yeah," I grunt.  
  
We do end up at a coffee shop that's open until 4 am. Across from me, after we order, he leans back and grins.  
  
"So, when and how did you discover that you're gay, or bi?...Or bi-curious, whatever."  
  
"I-", I try to think back, try to remember, "I think just recently. I never had time to before. I didn't have a conventional childhood."  
  
"Does any one?" he asks and laughs shortly and bitterly, "Go on."  
  
"Well, I knew that I just felt different. I wasn't attracted to the person I thought I should be attracted to. I thought...other boys were more...good looking, I guess. I love her, though. I just can't love her like that."  
  
"You have a girlfriend?"  
  
"No, she's my wife", I confess and it feels good to have some one to confide in.   
  
His eyes grow wide and his eyebrows arch up again, "No shit? You're married? I thought no one did that these days."  
  
I shrug, "...It's complicated. Like I said, I love her, I want to protect her, but..."  
  
He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, like my problems are his problems, "But you're not in love with her."  
  
I nod and add, "Nor attracted to her. I've tried, I really have, but...it's not what I want."  
  
"You want a man", he states the obvious and nods, like he concluded all of it. He's very strange, but attractive.  
  
"So", he says after leaning toward me, "Your plan is for one-night stands to satisfy you."  
  
I nod and am grateful that he understands me, that some one does, even if I don't.  
  
"But what happens if she finds out? Will you give it up?"  
  
"She won't", I swear.  
  
"What if you fall in love with one of those guys?"  
  
"Then...", I haven't really thought about that, "I would just continue my life. And if they loved me, then they would have to understand that she comes first; she's my life."  
  
He whistles low and I don't know what that means.  
  
"You really have got a thing for her, just not the right thing", he mumbles, "She's really lucky to have some one so devoted, even though she doesn't know it."  
  
I shrug and tell him, "That's okay, I don't think I ever will fall in love."  
  
"What?!" he cries out and laughs, "And why's that?"  
  
"I'm a hard person to love and it's even harder for me to have any feelings towards other people."  
  
He grows serious and asks, "Why's that?"  
  
"I told you, an unconventional childhood."  
  
The waitress brings us our coffee and his additional slice of pie and there's only silence between us. I refuse to shift from uncomfortable, but I begin to get nervous that I've scared him off.   
  
It's a shame because he's handsome...and nice. He has a nice laugh.  
  
"You were", he says slowly, slicing his pie with a spoon, "in the war, weren't you?"  
  
The cup shakes a little after he says that, my cup, but I don't know why. I'm not that surprised he asked that, am I?  
  
I stiffly nod.  
  
"It's just", he explains, using his spoon to point at me, "how you act, how you move. I can tell by that. I know a lot about body language. You just reminded me of a soldier and how you're a little...I don't know. I can just tell."  
  
He goes back to eating his pie quietly.  
  
I steal slow sips from the black coffee and wonder if I should ask for the check. Should I pay for both?  
  
"So, what's your type?" he asks, grinning again, like there was never a serious moment, "You never answered."  
  
"Well...", I pause to think, to try to dig up something "smooth" as Duo says, "I like a guy who likes going to a cafe at 2 am with a stranger..."  
  
He slowly smiles at me and, damn it all, I smile back...


	2. Memories and New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New things are stirring...

"I'm so happy, Heero", Relena breathed out as we stood outside the hotel suite's door.

I smiled to her. I was, too, in my own way. I vowed to make her so happy.

I unlocked the door and carried her inside as she giggled.

There was moonlight pouring into the room, not faint or delicate, but cold and unwavering. The bed that I set Relena in was a canopy bed that was bathed in white, all white, everything was white. How virginal. I can see why it's the honeymoon suite. I wondered how many lost their virginity in there before us.

The childish laughter quickly melted as she settled onto the bed. Her cheeks slowly flushed and she was very pretty, like a doll, and now a wife. So many men would kill or die for what I was about to do. So many men envied me for what we were going to be doing. We were going to be losing our virginity, to each other. It was the wedding night; it's tradition. And yet, my heart felt dead and I had been quietly dreading it. However, I knew that it was part of my obligation, as it would be for the rest of my life. She had looked to my support spiritually for the past years, and would now look to me for sexual support.

"Heero", she sighed and softly smiled.

I leaned forward and kissed her. It was delicate and sweet.

We kissed for quite some time before I felt her tremble.

"Heero", she whispered, "Make love to me."

How my heart dreaded those words, how they crippled me, but I slowly unbuttoned her dress. She slipped from it's puffy bowels and was thin and curvy again. She held her breath as carefully freed her from her brassier, then slipped down her pure white underpants. Now nude, she was pale and soft. Her breasts undulated with her breath, its nipples already hard from the cooling air. She looked very pretty...and I was very disheartened. I thought maybe if I saw her nude I would become aroused, I would finally find her attractive, but I didn't. She was gorgeous, but not what I was looking for. Not what I wanted.

"Heero", she murmured and drew my hand to a naked breast.

I caressed and groped and did everything I thought she wanted me to do.

"Join me", she chuckled and tugged at my pants.

Quickly, and without teasing, I undressed. It was methodical and I criticized myself for not trying harder. I needed to do this for her...

So, I thought about what I always do when I get aroused...As shameful and appalling, I thought of a man. A man running a hand down his nude abdomen, down to his naked groin.

I crawled on top of her slowly and she gasped as she felt me start to harden. I kissed her and closed my eyes.

Carefully the man stroked his erection, jerking on it straight out towards me, and then pulling it up towards himself. 

I could touch her breasts without apathy as we kissed, open mouthed with no slightest bit of tongue. Just open and wet.

My mind drifted to two men, one of them kissed his way down to the man's penis, then with ardor, sucked on it. The other man threw his head back as he was getting blown, his hands pulled the other's head to him; fucked his mouth.

Relena gasped as I moved against her, but she copied the movement. My cock slipped in between her legs. I could feel wetness on the tip, wetness that came from her. She moaned into my lips.

In the dark, vile corridor of my mind, the one that I try to shut off, the one I cover so clandestinely, the two men started to have sex. 

Just watching the cock disappear into the other man in my mind, I moved forward. She cried out my name as I moved into her, felt her wetness surround me. I urged myself to be slow when I really just wanted to push myself inside her, all the way, up to the testicles.

She wrapped her legs around me as I pushed in and then gingerly pulled back. She held me tight to her, calling out my name. It distracted me, I almost lost my hardness, but then I thought of...

I thought of two men. I thought of me and Duo. I thought of his legs around my waist, I thought of me being inside his wetness, and him holding onto me, crying my name.

I came suddenly and sharply, gritting my teeth. Shards of pleasure cut through me, through my veins as I saw his face twisted with lust for me. 

My breathing eased and my heart calmed, then I realized I was lying on top of Relena.

"Oh, I'm sorry", I mumbled and pulled out and collapsed beside her.

"It's all right", she replied with all of her love hanging on her voice, "I love you."

"Are you okay?" I quickly asked, feeling guilty for not asking before.

"Yes. Wonderful."

"Do you...", I started, but trailed off. How do I ask her if she wants me to make her...To show her pleasure?

"I'm fine", she answered and blushed. I felt very relieved.

We moved under the covers and she embraced me, settling in. I wasn't used to some one touching me when I slept and I didn't like it. She was too close, too constricting, but I swallowed it down and told myself that I'd move out of her arms after she fell asleep. 

"I love you, Heero."

"I love you, too."

"Wouldn't it be wonderful", she whispered in a lazy, tired tone, "if we were to have a baby from this?"

I stroked her back, feeling the smooth and flawless skin, but didn't answer.

I didn't have one.

***

My heart is in my throat, crushing the muscles, and I struggle for breath. My heart is in my arms, making them twitch, and causing my hands to become hot and sweaty. My heart is in my head, pounding inside it, echoing in my ears. 

It feels like I'm heading for something fresh and raw. It feels like when I was crashing towards Earth, when I deployed for operation meteor, seeing the world so small and fragile below me. When I had just become a new person, shedding my old code name for a new one. It was supposed to be my last mission and it turned into Relena and Duo and my entire life. It became this moment now.

I follow him down the mauve hall, and he turns a few times to make sure that I'm still following him and then gives me a quick, encouraging smile. I payed for the hotel room in cash. I can't be here, not by name. I didn't know if I needed to pay for a room or pay for the man, or what. I didn't know how this works, but I guess this is the way. A cup of coffee and then sex.

We reach 202 and he steps aside for me to open it. He follows me in and then...we both just stand there for a moment after the door's closed.

He laughs and asks, "Do you want to relax a little before we start? What do you like? Do you want me to know your name? Do you like it loud or quiet?"

I think about each question, turning them in my head, moving them against my heart in there. 

"No, I've waited a long enough time", I answer, "I'll try anything. You can call me Duo and I'll be quiet, but you can be loud."

"You can call me Tom", he smirks to me as he brushes close to me, his hands rub up my arms slowly, and he leans his mouth near my ear, "And I usually am loud."

Then all I hear is his breath in my ear and my heart. His tongue traces my ear, from the top to the lobe, and I don't mean to jolt, but I do. Tom's teeth dig gently on the lobe, his lips wrapping around it. I automatically concentrate on breathing, on slowing my heart, and calming my erection. I want this to last all night because it can; I have a very good alibi.

His lips latch onto my neck suddenly, almost harshly. I make a noise, like a cough or a grunt. His fingers slide to my back and press roughly into my muscles as he bites bites my neck, over and over. I feel like I'm under water, like I'm in zero g, like I'm not Heero Yuy anymore. I am someone new and someone desired the way I want to be. Like I am lusted for, sought after. It leaves me shaking. It's frightening and amazing. I feel normal, I feel human. I feel the bonds of obligation slip.

I hold him to me, grab him closer to me. This is when I let go, that I allow myself to be selfish. No more missions. No more danger. No more duty. Just an outlet.

Hands grab my face and his mouth is off my neck and crushing my lips. I can taste my sweat on them, I can taste his eagerness, and my hunger spikes. I press myself against him. We stumble until I feel his body hit the wall and I push him into it with my groin and chest and everything I've got. He's already hard against me and it thrills me, it stabs into me; this is the passion that I've searched for. This isn't how it feels with Relena. This is what I've imagined sex to be like.

My shirt is being pulled over my head, my pants are being unbuttoned, and I feel my hands grabbing at his shirt and his pants. I feel his skin, his flat chest and stomach rubbing over mine, scraping against it and causing friction. His hand pulls on my cock and all I can do is pant and grunt and let him. 

"God, you're so fucking hot", he hisses almost menacingly in my ear, "I wanted to fuck you the first time I saw you."

It shouldn't be so arousing, I've heard phrases like those said in every porno that I've watched from Sexual Gladiator to Dirty Dicks 8. It's like a mantra in the pornographic industry, meaningless words like these. It should be the same feeling of apathy when I hear them, but it's not. Somehow, I feel like it is true, like he really wanted me when he saw me. No one has ever said that and honestly, I never thought that some one would say that about me. 

"So do it", I tell him because I want to give him what he wants, and because I want it.

In a mangle of fumbling legs and entwining arms, we make it to the bed. He kicks out of his pants and I kick out of mine as he pulls out a condom and lube from his pants pocket. We're naked except for our shoes when he start pushing a finger in me. He's between my legs, watching me, lying on my back and gasping as I feel every inch of his finger move in and out of me. It's different doing this alone and having some one else do it. Just every thing is more...more satisfying, more real, more amazing. In and out, with two fingers, and just seeing his eyes on my cock. It's all overwhelming.

His fingers pull back and he tears open the condom with his teeth. I wanted to go slower, to explore every thing that I could. I wanted to try so many things that I've seen on the pixelated screen, but now that I'm here and I have some one so very, very hot and moves and smells like Duo, I want to feel it. All of it, all at once. I want to get fucked. I want it in the most literal sense. I want it in the most cliched, generic sense. I want it hard and fast and scorching. I want it and can't think of anything else...

So I get it.

It doesn't hurt when he pushes in slowly, without stopping. It feels natural and like finding a piece of yourself, like coming home to something. It's so hard to describe, but it feels right and it feels very good.

He doesn't vibrate like I'm used to, but he gets harder, and I can feel it inside me as he rocks against me. His arms pin mine to the sides of my head and I lose the circulation. His lips pull on mine, wet mine, and it's welcomed. It's all welcomed.

"Oh Duo", he gasps against my lips and he pushes into me with short, fast thrusts. I growl out because I can feel it, in the distance of my mind, slowly gathering.

It seeps into my veins as he pulls back a hand to twist it between us and tugs on my erection. And then it's here...

As I choke on my orgasm, I can still feel him jabbing into me, quicker as he prepares himself for his climax. He comes a few seconds after me, so we lie there, jerking and gasping together. It's intimate; the most intimate that I've been with a stranger. Just a few seconds to lie there like lovers. I almost laugh when I remember that he shouted out Duo's name as he came, for some reason it's so funny and so sad.

"So", he says when he gains his breath, "You wanna have another go? You wanna fuck me now?"

Yes, I do.

***

It's 10am when I leave. He's still showering, but I can't stay any longer. I nearly vomit as I walk out, and I have to hold the wall for a moment before I can move again. I ignore a hotel worker asking me if I'm all right. No, I'm not. I'm sick. I'm very sick. I betrayed everything, everything I was supposed to be. For what? A night of weakness? A single night that could ruin my marriage, the respect I've earned from others? It's not worth it and I can't believe I was so desperate to have sex with someone that I didn’t even know, that I don't trust at all. Am I really that pathetic, that lonely, to stoop to that?

I'm disappointed in myself. I feel horrible for betraying Relena's love like that. I thought I was stronger than that. I thought I was strong.

I take a long walk before heading home to think about what happened. Last night was so different from anything sexual that I've experienced. It felt amazing, but its residue is poisoning. What if the condom broke? What if I get a disease and pass it to Relena? Plus, the lonely, horrible fact that it was the only time I promised myself to try it...and it felt so wonderful. I wonder what's worse: missing something but not knowing it, or experiencing it and knowing what you are missing.

I can't help but compare it to Relena, my marital sex with her. 

It's almost hard to imagine that the two experiences are the same thing...

I steel myself as I drive back. I shut down, and bury it. I remove it from me and prepare for the next words to come out of my mouth - noncommittal lies that she will believe without an ounce of any doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ruh-roh...


	3. Urgency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero is trapped between the life he's expected to live and the life he's been denied...

When I get home, I'm a mess. I don't look like a mess, but I feel it - in my bones, in my muscles. I feel cut up and sewn back with loose stitches. I don't feel like myself.  
  
When I come into the study and she's alone, I don't stop. When she stands up and greets me, I don't give her a choice. I love her and I will love her.  
  
"Heero", she exclaims, excited, and stands, "How was your meeting with-"  
  
My lips are on hers. I wonder if she can taste Tom's mouth in mine. If she can, she doesn't realize it because she accepts my kiss with alacrity. It's not very prim and chaste, my kiss. I'm desperately trying to caress, nip, suck out something that I can really _feel_. I grope for arousal in her. I clutch onto any thing that will make me feel differently about her because she deserves it. She deserves me to be a good and loyal husband.  
  
"Oh, Hee~ro", she moans as I gather her skirt up, pull it up to her hips.   
  
I rub against her, making her gasp near my mouth. I kiss her face passionately, fiercely. I kiss everything. I kiss her delicate neck and fingers. I kiss everything like I'm branding it, making it mine, as twisted as it sounds because a very lonely place inside me is scared that my infidelity will lead to hers. I don't want to lose her. I don't want to be alone any more. I want to be the one next to her.  
  
My fingers slip into her underwear and she almost jumps away because she's not used to this, me being so forceful, or just being touched there. I touch, feeling her hair entwine my fingers and moving my hand down in between her legs. I find her hole wet and inviting and my finger tips dip into her. Her hands pinch into my arms as she moans and tries not to fall. I cover her mouth again and slide my tongue into her mouth for the first time. Again, she tries not to jolt. I can tell that she enjoys it, though - the way she moves her hips and starts to suck on my tongue.   
  
I break away to pull down her panties and she blushes like it's our first time, but it's actually our third time. The second time was uneventful, I'll tell you now.   
  
She moves her hands to unbutton my shirt, but I clasp her hands and kiss them, remembering the marks that my fling had left on my neck. I unbutton my pants and pull my half-hard cock out. It's mere seconds before her hands ghost over it, like a zephyr brushing against my skin. She touches me like I'm fragile, like I could shatter in her hands.  
  
I gently push her against her desk and she finally gets the hint and sits on it, giving me a quizzical look, but not asking. I pull her skirt up until I can see past her ankles, her knees, her thighs....  
  
I pull her bare buttocks forward and position myself, feeling her wetness drool over the head of my cock. All I get is a sharp gasp as I push in, stretching her, filling her. I can tell how excited she is by this unexpected sex, I can feel her vagina practically devour my cock aggressively. This is just what she needed: a good fuck. On top of her papers for work, on her work desk, with an open window, an unlocked door - just getting fucked. She loves it. I'm glad.   
  
I'm so very glad.  
  
I hold onto her hips as her legs wrap around my back, I can hear the heels of her shoes click against each other. It would all be very sexy, I imagine, to any one else. Her hands dig into my hair as her head is tilted back and moaning, constantly moaning.   
  
I push, I pull. In and out. I strive, I beg myself, to get into it. I do every thing I can think up to enjoy it, and I do, but not the way that I did before. It's just a dreary reflection. It's just a cheap knock-off.  
  
But I concentrate and do cum. I cum inside her and she's delighted. She didn't cum, but she's ecstatic. There's some drops of cum on her papers. She laughs at that as we pull away, as she cleans herself.  
  
I hold her from behind and touch her, rub her. After a few minutes, she falls back on me and cries out. I guess that she came, and I'm satisfied. This wasn't about me, this was about her.  
  
She sighs and giggles, "Did you miss me?"  
  
"Yes", I reply and I'm grateful that I can be honest with her this once...  
  
***

  
Little by little, my life becomes what it was before, like pieces of what happened are being chipped away. _Did it happen at all? Did I let myself go like that? Did I only dream it?_  
  
I want to tell myself that it was just a dream, that I was only imagining it...  
  
I begin to lose interest again and I don't mean to. When Relena leans in to kiss me, I catch myself hoping that it's a short, chaste kiss. When she leads me by the hand at night to the bedroom, our bedroom, my stomach clenches and I try to relax and enjoy the intimacy with Relena that no one else can share...  
  
But it's hard.  
  
Days tumble and crash into weeks, which stretch into months. Three months have passed from when I broke my vows, my promise to Relena and had sex with another man... _another man...  
_  
"Heero?" I hear her ask.  
  
"What?" I reply, looking up at her. She paused from eating her breakfast and I pause from rearranging mine. I'm not that hungry.  
  
She smiles, teasingly, "I was just wondering what you're so preoccupied with...Or is hearing where we'll be going for our anniversary that boring?"  
  
Our anniversary is still seven months away, but she likes to plan these kind of things, so she's already working on it.   
  
I push my breakfast away and assure her, wearily, "No, I'm fine. What were you saying?"  
  
"I was saying that Venice would be nice, if that's fine with you. Or maybe we can go to Canada, if you want something quiet. I'd like to go to Earth, would you like to?"  
  
"It doesn't matter to me", I tell her because it really doesn't, but then I see her face drop. I resist the urge to sigh. I like her-I **love** her, but sometimes she takes these things too personally. I didn't mean that I didn't care about going on a vacation with her, just I don't care where we go. Sometimes it's frustrating having to explain everything I say to her...  
  
I realize that I'm getting frustrated and maybe a little resentful towards her and that scares me.  
  
"Let's go to Venice", I answer her, and I choose it because I know that's what she really wants.  
  
She smiles again, "I'm so glad. It's so romantic!"  
  
I give her a little smile to encourage her.  
  
"I'd love to be there with you, in one of their hotels by the water. The whole room lit by candles and rose petals all over the bed", she fantasizes with a sensual, coy smile tracing her lips, "And just you and me..."  
  
She leaves it off with the obvious, with what she really is interested in, or what she thinks I'm interested in.   
  
"Are you done with breakfast?" she asks suddenly.  
  
I look at my plate with disgust and nod.  
  
Her cheeks flush as she slides out of her chair.  
  
"I have an hour and a half before I need to be at my meeting", she shyly tells me what I already know, "Let's go back to bed before then."  
  
I don't want to. I really don't feel like sex right now. I don't even feel like masturbating in the shower...but it's what she wants. So, I follow her into the bedroom.  
  
We strip quickly and I try to get into the mood. My hands curve against her breasts and I try to channel any sexuality, but I'm just touching Relena, and it's nice, but...  
  
Her hands flutter all around my body, but never take shape, like she's still uncertain. Her mouth is alive against mine. I try to focus.   
  
I'm only half-hard when we try to have sex and it works for a little while. Her legs wrap around my body tightly, her arms are above her head and it looks like she's submitting to me. I swallow and hope she's not, hope she's not just doing this for my benefit...  
  
But her wetness flows and coats my dick and her moans wrap around me, covering me. She's enjoying herself.  
  
And then I lose it.   
  
To my horror, I slip out of her, I'm soft. I berate myself, I am enraged at myself, but just give her and apologetic look.  
  
"Heero?" she asks as she looks at me, at my flaccid penis.  
  
"It's okay", I tell her, as I jerk myself trying to get hard again, "Maybe it's just too early in the morning."  
  
She smiles, but it's clean of any malice or teasing. She likes seeing me when I'm vulnerable and most human. Maybe she feels like I can only be like this in front of her, maybe that makes her feel good about herself. I cut that negativity off quick and concentrate on what's in my hand. I struggle to make it grow.  
  
I jerk and rub, but it's not happening. I pull it to the point of pain, gritting my teeth.  
  
"Do you want me to do anything?" she asks, hopefully.  
  
"No, I'm fine. I just...need some time, maybe."  
  
After a few minutes, she puts a hand on my shoulder, gently.  
  
"Just give me one more minute", I say, with out a drop of desperation in my voice, but it's clouding my heart.  
  
"It's okay", she assures me, "Don't worry. This happens to every one, right? Let's just get ready for the meeting. Let's take a shower together!"  
  
"Okay", I agree and let my hand drop, my penis stings, "Give me a minute, I'll be there."  
  
She nods and gathers her clothes, leaving me there to my own deprecation and anger...  
  


***  
  
I find myself snapping at people after that, acting like someone with a chip on their shoulder. Maybe I do; I don't know. I try to relax, to concentrate, but I still do it and it confuses me. I was trained to block out stress, pain, and fear without a thought, to remain a constant pillar of strength, but I discover the discipline deteriorating over time.   
  
Duo even noticed when he called.  
  
"Geez, trouble in paradise, Heero?" he joked, but the tone wasn't very friendly, it was more concerned, "Everything okay?"  
  
"Yeah", I replied, but didn't feel it, "I'm fine."  
  
 _"I'm fine"_ has been becoming my new reply to everything.  
  
But it's when I made Relena cry that I reconsider going back to that part of town - just relieve my stress. Just a little at a time.  
  
It's about a week after I couldn't finish sex that she tries again, that she plasters herself onto me. I'm already in a bad mood for reasons that are trivial, it doesn't even matter. Tired, I just want to go to bed, but when we lie down, she's hot and pressing herself against me. I don't know how to tell her that I'm not in the mood. I don't know how to say that we'll try again, but I just turn over.  
  
I turn away from her. I shut down.  
  
Then I hear her crying, soft little hiccups that shake the bed slightly.  
  
I turn around and find her eyes so wide and moist.   
  
"What did I do wrong, Heero? What's _wrong_? I don't know unless you tell me", she said through delicate breaths.  
  
I feel horrible. It's not her fault. It's mine and I don't know how to make it better, I don't know how to make it go away. If I could just shed my feelings, my desires, I would. I would strip it from me in an instant, but no matter what I do or how I try to stifle it, I only feel it more. Even when I'm next to her now, I feel it and it's wrong. She's my wife and I love her, but here I am making her cry...because of my foolish emotions.  
  
"I'm sorry", I whisper and brush away her tears, "You didn't do any thing wrong. I just...need some time alone. I need to adjust more. I'm not...I just need some more time."  
  
She holds my hands to her face and nods, understanding, and how I wish she really could understand me.  
  
***  
  
Again, I feel out of place, looking at the different bars and clubs. Not having been in any, I don't know which one will have what I want...but I'm not too picky. I just need someone else, a warm body, attractive - anyone.  
  
Suddenly, I feel eyes watching me from behind. Out of instinct, I use what's around me to see who it is. A window shows me that he's on the other side of the street. A car mirror tells me that he's young, younger than me, and about an inch taller than me with dark brown skin. I walk towards a club and watch him at the same time. I don't know if he's interested in _me_ , or in something else.  
  
When I'm about to get into a bar, I see that he's following me. My gut clenches and I'm back on the mission. I'm being tailed. I move through the busy crowd and pull to the side, somewhere he wont see me when he enters. And he doesn't see me when he comes in and looks around, not finding me in the crowd. Silently, I pull behind him, and put a solid hold on his wrist, enough to prove he's been bested.  
  
"What do you want?" I ask quietly, but loud enough to be heard by him, right into his ear.  
  
He starts and turns around with wide eyes.  
  
"I asked you a question", I tell him, "Why don't you answer it outside..."  
  
If he wants a fight or something, then there won't be people around to get involved. If he wants to have sex, then there wont be people around to watch.  
  
He gingerly follows me and I'm beginning to doubt that he wants to start a fight or to spy on me.  
  
When we're somewhere quieter, I look at him for answer.  
  
"Well", I prompt him, "I know you were following me, and watching me. What do you want?"  
  
He looks very uncomfortable, but now that he's up close, I can see that he's attractive, but young. Late teens probably. His face is youthful and still has yet to be defined. His hair is short, buzzed, and he's got some muscle tone. Weights? No, not that pronounced. Maybe swim team, but most likely basketball. I wonder if he's any good. I wonder how good he'd do against me...  
  
"I'm sorry", he says and rubs the back of his head, "I just saw you and...well, it's my first time around here and...I just didn't know how to...I thought that you looked...Hey, I'm sorry, okay? I'll just-"  
  
At first I'm a little startled and realize the irony. I'm just as new and inexperienced as him. I find it almost funny that he pegged me for someone who was a regular here and was...shy (?) towards _me_.  
  
I interrupt him before he can get away, "You wanted to...approach me?"  
  
It's all awkward and it confuses him.  
  
"Approach you? I mean, I just thought you look nice and...maybe we could, you know, grab a beer or something..."  
  
We're both so awkward and confused. We're at a loss. We want something, but don't know how to say it.  
  
"How old are you?" I ask, skeptical, because this could go very, very bad. What if he's an undercover cop or something.  
  
"Eighteen", he replies.  
  
I'm still skeptical and I give him what Duo calls the 'Death Glare'.   
  
"Yesterday. I turned eighteen yesterday", he admits, "But...I've done this before."  
  
"I thought this was your first time here."  
  
"Well, yeah, but not the first time to..."  
  
I am direct, the only way I know how to be, "Do you want to have sex with me?"  
  
This really flusters him, "NO! I mean, well, I was just coming here to look...and if I saw any one that was, well, cool, maybe we could do something or...something. I mean, I don't do this a lot or any thing, I just was-"  
  
"So, no?" I ask because I don't want to waste time.  
  
"Well, I...", and he's at a loss for words.  
  
"Okay", I cut into the silence and start walking away.  
  
"Wait", he calls out, and shamefully admits slowly, "Yeah, I wanna do it."  
  
"Okay", I tell him.  
  
"I like Asians...", he admits shyly.  
  
I'm not sure how to respond. What am I supposed to say? "Thank you"?  
  
"You're really hot", he adds and smiles uneasily.  
  
"Thanks", I throw out for him, but don't really feel it. I don't think I'm "hot", but _I_ don't have to have sex with myself, so it doesn't matter.  
  
"Where do you want to go?" I ask him.  
  
"It doesn't matter...the alley?"  
  
That unsettles me because I didn't think he would want it to be public. I thought he would want a hotel room or something. As much as I think it's a bad idea, it also thrills me.  
  
"Okay", I breathe out.  
  
We walk towards a darkened alley and my heart feels like a sledgehammer against my chest, ready to break out. I watch his ass as we walk, but he wouldn't notice, no one would. I'm very careful at showing my attraction. I'm not sure how this is going to work, though. Does he want to fuck _me_ , or...? I don't know. Hopefully, he'll just tell me, or we might be here all night just trying to figure this out.  
  
When we're in the shadows, he leans against the wall and smiles at me, like I'm his catch. Maybe I am.   
  
"Do you wanna fuck me?" he asks. Perfect.  
  
 **I do** , how **I do**. I want it so bad and due to starving myself of it for months, I want to slam him against the brick and go right at it. I don't want foreplay, I don't want names exchanged. I want sex, good and hard sex that we have to keep quiet from people walking by. But...there's social protocol to this.  
  
I nod, and with that, he turns around and pulls his pants down to his ankles.

Just like that.

Just opens himself for me and maybe he **is** more experienced, or just too trusting.   
  
"Just use a condom and lube me", he mumbles against the wall, "You don't even need to reach-around, I can usually just cum by getting fucked."  
  
I fumble digging the lube and condom from my pocket, seeing his firm ass waiting for me, the lights of the streets caressing it and shadows curving around it. I almost choke on the air in my lungs.  
  
"After we do this", I tell him seriously as I smear the lube over my fingers, "forget me, got it?"  
  
"Yeah", I hear him murmur.  
  
And then I push in a finger and he sighs, like it belongs there, like he's waited for it his whole life. Pushing and pull, I finger-fuck him, watching my pale finger disappear into his darkness, into _him_.  
  
"Mmmmmm", he hums his pleasure against the cold, rough wall, "mmmmore."  
  
So, I squeeze in another finger, stretching them, pushing them, reaching with them. He pants and squirms.  
  
"Yeah...that's so good", he sighs, "Harder."  
  
So, I do it harder and faster. There's sweat on my forehead that I don't dare wipe away. I'm hard, I've been hard for the last five minutes, but I get harder.  
  
"Do it", he cries out, "Fuck me!"  
  
He's being pretty loud and I'm getting a little nervous about some one hearing us, so I comply. I pull the condom on, feeling it wrap against my skin. I tingle all over. I wipe some lube around it that I can't feel.  
  
I position myself and he murmurs encouragements. I push the head in and he moans, low and long.   
  
"More! Fill me! Just fuck me! I want you in me", he continues and it's getting louder. I listen outside of his voice, for footsteps nearby, or any one else.  
  
Nervously, I push it all the way in quickly and clamp a hand against his mouth as he cries out. I shudder against him as his body closes around me.   
  
"Shh", I whisper, huskily against his ear, and he nods. I move my hand from his mouth to the wall, to brace myself. He places both his hands against it. I hold his hip with my left hand and pull out, almost all the way before plunging back in. He struggles to keep quiet and I do, too.   
  
"Faster", he whispers, raggedly.  
  
So, I do what he wants, I push in and out, over and over. I watch the condom, my dick, collapse into his body, only to be pulled back out - over and over.   
  
My head is dizzy. I can hear his gasps, people walking by, the music from the clubs, laughter, moans of other sex - it's all addicting and hot and beautiful. And for once I feel that I'm _part_ of it.  
  
"Harder, fuck harder!"  
  
I do. I grit my teeth and plunge into him. His back against my heaving chest, his ear hearing every breath that's pulled in and thrust out. Our sweat , our skin, sliding against each other. I push him up against the wall and all I think about is my dick, all I have in my head is sex, there's nothing else. Just fuckfuckfuck, in/out/in/out. Just the moans from him, the grunts from me and the smacking sound our bodies are making, are _creating_. Just good, hard sex. No kisses, no tender words, just cock-goes-into-ass and it feels good, so _good_. Just good to let go. Just to be a part of something.  
  
" ** _Oh, oh_** ", he whines out, "I'm gonna cum, man!"  
  
I wrap my arms around him and deeply thrust into him, going in as deep as I can.   
  
"Oh, **OH**! _Yesss_ , oh, fuck!" he cries as his body clamps up and I feel him cum, just being in him, I can feel it.  
  
I suck in a breath and rock against him almost savagely, so I can feel it, too. So I can feel that moment of 'right' inside me.  
  
When it looms in a few more seconds, I warn him, too.  
  
"I'm going to cum", I grunt out.  
  
"Yeah, fucking cum, I want you to cum in me. Fuck me hard!" he swore and it was almost grating, if it wasn't so perfect for the moment, if it wasn't so hot.  
  
And it is hot, and I do cum. Hard and fast, like the sex, I cum and I shake against him. I grab the brick quickly to stay on my feel as my legs wobble, as I feel the rush of pleasure wash over me, and it does wash me. I do feel cleansed. I feel anger drop from me. I feel better. I feel like myself again.

I suck in each cold breath of the night, feel it in every artery, washing through me...  
  
Shakily, we part. I pull out gently, and he turns back and smiles. I force myself to smile, out of politeness.  
  
"Hey-uh, thanks", he says as we both pull our pants up and get adjusted.  
  
"Yeah", I reply, but I'm drained, "spent" as Duo calls it.  
  
"Hope it was good", he mumbles, self-consciously.  
  
"Yeah", I assure him and I'm getting sick of assuring people, "It was."  
  
I go to leave, but he he stops me.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
I turn around, confused. What does he want? Money?  
  
"Before you go and disappear from my life forever", he smiles, but it's a little naive and weak, "which is fine...can I get a kiss?"  
  
I hesitate, but I walk close to him. Suddenly, I'm a little nervous. I just had sex with him, a kiss should be nothing...  
  
Our lips touch and it's a lot softer than I imagined. He doesn't kiss like he fucks, he kisses slowly and passionately. His lips linger on mine, playfully. It's good. Really good. The best kiss I've ever had. It almost makes me want to go again.  
  
We pull away and he smiles again, "Well, see ya, hottie."  
  
With that, he quickly walks away without looking back, which is for the best.  
  
I do the same thing...


	4. Boredom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero begins to settle into his new discoveries while also feeling the weight from the expectations of others...

"He~y!" Duo exclaims and turns around, looking at himself in the mirror. He does look good, and he can tell. So can the girl helping him with the tuxedo, even if her eyes are glued to his nether regions.  
  
He glances back at me for approval, "What d'ya think? Looks nice!"  
  
I nod and lean back in my chair. I was hoping that this wasn't going to take too long. We've only been at the tuxedo rental shop for a half hour, but I'm already getting bored. I not bored with being with Duo, but bored with the situation. I'm not the one who can tell him what can match, or what accents him best. It's all frivolous to me. Relena picked out what I was going to wear to the wedding because she knows I don't care about things like that, but didn't want me to show up in a tank top, either. I only had to go through fittings once.  
  
But he looks good, he does. I hope that's all he needs.   
  
I'm getting bored of being happy for him. For everyone else...  
  
"Yeah, I think this will do", he smiles to the girl, who hides her disappointment well.  
  
I watch the people walking the mall pass me as he changes. I see families. I see children. I wonder if Duo and Hilde will have a child before Relena and I will. It's not a race, I know. I was just wondering...Maybe they can play together, the children.   
  
I never imagined myself as a father, not even after I met Relena. Not even after peace settled over earth and the colonies. Not that I hate children, but to be a father? But it's what Relena wants and Relena has enough love to give for the both of us. And I think I could love a child, but...there are things that just wouldn't fall into place properly. Things that I couldn't provide. Things that the child would want from me. Demand of me...  
  
Duo steps out with a genuine, content grin. He should, he's getting married to someone he loves, someone he desires. And I'm glad for him. I'm sure he'll make a remarkable father and she'll be a wonderful mother.  
  
"Hey, now that we got that over with, let's grab something to eat. It's been a while, just you and me...", he says to me after he's filled out the paperwork.  
  
We get some food from a burger place in the mall and sit down. He doesn't start eating yet, though, just looks at his food. It's easy to tell that something's wrong. So I wait for him to tell me.  
  
"Man," he leans forward and smiles, "Can you believe this? I mean, you're married and I'm getting married. Weird, huh? I never thought that it would be like this..."  
  
"Yeah?" I prompt him because he's subtly asking me to.  
  
"Yeah, I mean sometimes I wonder if I'm going to fast. Our lives were lived fast before, during the war, and that was expected. We never knew what tomorrow would bring...But here we are and it's tomorrow..."  
  
He pauses a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing.  
  
"I just wonder if I'm doing the right thing. If you think about it, we're still really young. We have the rest of our lives-Don't get me wrong! I love Hilde!...But what if it's too fast? What if we jump into this and it doesn't work out?"   
  
He pauses before continuing,"I've never been one for 'what-if's, but each day I hear myself say it. It never used to be about 'what if's, it was just 'survive and keep doing that'. Now, we're talking about buying a house, kids, stuff like that...Makes me ask myself, 'Am I ready for this?' I mean, really?"  
  
He sighs and leans back, not looking at me, "We got into a fight recently. She says I'm living in the past, that the war is over. I know that, but I still feel like part of me is back there, or trapped there. Do you ever feel like that?"  
  
He's looking right at me as he asks, and he's nervous. He needs me to reassure him, to understand him, to guide him.   
  
I nod once and let him continue, to have someone who understands him listen. And I do understand him, I'm still in the war. I never got out of it...  
  
"I just...It's getting to the point of no return, I think. It's now or never. I can't back out of my commitment after this, I mean marriage. I still want to be with her, but maybe just slow the marriage down. I want to enjoy each other, the world, _everything_ a little more...But maybe that's just cold feet talking, right? I want to spend the rest of my life with her, so why should I hesitate?"  
  
His eyes are lost, he toys with his straw in the desperate need for something else to focus on. I know how that feels...  
  
"Did you feel it, too?" he asks me and I realize what I say now will determine his future. That makes me uncomfortable. It makes me a little resentful.  
  
It's hard to say the right thing. It's hard to know the right thing. It's hard to let him go. It's hard not to appeal to him when he's so vulnerable. It's just hard; everything is just hard.   
  
"Duo," I tell him and hope this makes as much sense to him as it should to me, "The war is over. It's _over_."  
  
He looks like he doesn't comprehend what I'm trying to say and then he does, all at once, from all sides, in every cell of him. He realizes and he doesn't know what emotion he wants to wear. Happy, relieved, sad, ashamed - like a kaleidoscope on his face.  
  
He laughs.  
  
"Yeah, it's time to grow up, huh? It's time to let go and just move ahead," he laughs out in a pained, happy kind of way that I could never duplicate.  
  
I know he's all right when he begins to eat, but I'm not that hungry anymore...  
  
***  
  
"You're going out again?" she asks as I tug on my jacket.  
  
"Yeah," I answer, thinking about my day with Duo. It's frustrating; I'm frustrated. I want to feel wanted. I want to be anonymous. I want someone to not rely on me. I feel tired of doing the right thing. I just want another night of no commitments, no strings, nothing. I want nothingness. But right now, it's about what she wants.  
  
"Oh, well, you just need some fresh air, right?"   
  
My stomach twists because she says it in a way that makes me feel like she knows something, senses something's not right.   
  
"Is something wrong?" I ask her point-blank and calm my body from openly panicking. I prepare myself for the worst.  
  
"I'm just...", she looks down, some kind of sadness gathering on her face, "Are you _happy_ , Heero? It's not like...you don't want to be around me, right?"  
  
It's insecurity, that's all.   
  
"I love you," I tell her honestly and kneel down by her on the couch. She smiles and brushes her fingers on my cheek.  
  
"I just need some time to myself. I'm still-"  
  
"Adjusting," she completes my thought for me, "I know. I'm sorry. I just get some silly ideas in my head sometimes. I want you to feel comfortable. I want you to have your own time alone. I _know_ you, Heero. I should remind myself that before I ask such silly things...Forgive me."  
  
It feels so wrong to hear and even more to accept her apology. She's been nothing but understanding and love.   
  
"Go on," she encourages, "Go out for a few hours. Get some fresh air. I'll leave the light on."  
  
It feels like I'm ripping my skin off as I pull away from her. It's harder today than ever. I would have stayed if was any other night and it was just an itch, but with Duo's wedding looming and all the support I've been lending, I need to let go for just a few hours. I need to forget the war for a few hours. I need to forget myself for a few hours...  
  
***  
  
I actually make it into a club this time. It's loud, crowded, and hot. I hate it. I don't like flesh pushing up against me without an invitation or the knowledge that it's going to happen. Everything is spontaneous in here. People kiss randomly, intermittently, spontaneously, it seems. It just happens, like it's accidental. People dance together suddenly. Every action erratic, every breath could lead into something else. I hate it.  
  
I paste myself to the wall and just wait for some one to approach me. Just anyone. Doesn't even need to be attractive. Just sex. That's all.   
  
I finally order myself a drink and wonder if I'm going to get any sex at all tonight. What a horrible day that would be, if no one approached me. I feel an odd sting to my pride, but push it down, along with my drink. Non-alcoholic, I don't want to be sloppy or have Relena worry.  
  
I find a few people watching me, but it takes a while for any of them to take the bait. Finally, one of them approaches and I'm glad it was this one. He's cute, very sweet looking. He's thin, but graceful. I watched him dance and it wasn't about the other person he was dancing with, wasn't about the sex. I could tell he just liked to dance. He's good at it, too.   
  
"Why come to a club if you're not going to dance?" he asks with a teasing smile.  
  
 _What a question to ask_ ; why were any of us here? He already knew the answers, but it's a little cute, I'll admit.  
  
"Or are you just waiting for someone to ask you?"   
  
"I don't dance," I reply, having to lean in towards him so that he could hear me. His cologne and sweat mix and smells good, smells a little like sex.  
  
"What do you do?" he smiles wider and it's flirtatious. I decide to go for it.  
  
"I can show you", I tell him and hope it's seductive and not as stale as it sounds to me.  
  
He laughs and it coalesces with the music and sounds good, sounds a little like sex.  
  
"Okay," he agrees and his fingers touch my wrist, leading me out.  
  
We push out of the bodies and the music and the heat, looking at each other after getting outside. The lights are better out here and he looks a little older, but still cute.  
  
"You look better than I thought you'd look", he confesses, "You know how that goes."  
  
I really don't know, but I shrug.  
  
"Hotel?" I ask, but I see his hesitancy.  
  
"I really don't have that much money."  
  
"I'll pay."  
  
His face lights up and he exclaims, "Ok! There's one a few blocks away."  
  
I knew that, but keep walking. I know where every hotel in the area is, how much their hourly rates are, and what condition the rooms are. I've already checked them out.  
  
I try to hurry to get there, I've already taken more time than I thought I would. He matches my pace out of eagerness.  
  
"Don't talk much?" he asks.  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Are you loud in bed?"  
  
"Not usually."  
  
"I'll try to change that."  
  
He grins as I look at him and I feel my heart wriggle a little.   
  
"What do you like?" he asks as we see the hotel light up ahead, guiding our way.  
  
"Pretty much anything."  
  
"What _don't_ you like, then?"  
  
I think a few seconds before replying,"Bondage."  
  
"You being tied up, or tying someone up...or both?"  
  
"I guess being tied up."  
  
We're here. The Sleep EZ.   
  
When I check in, I can tell the staff is used to this kind of thing, and may depend on it for business. The man behind the counter doesn't even flinch when the man I'm with touches me and rubs against me a little. It makes me wonder if he's into voyeurism. I should probably add that to my list of things I don't like.  
  
As we walk to the room, I make sure I mention it, "I don't like voyeurism."  
  
"Ok", he answers easily, without a beat.   
  
When we get in, he stands beside the bed and slides off his shirt. I'm surprised with the light scars on his chest and back. There's a healing bite mark on his shoulder. He also has a pierced nipple. I'm not really used to that...Will he want me to play with it later? What should I do if he does?  
  
"Are you just going to watch?" he asks and smiles when I don't start to get naked with him, "Or do you want me to strip you?"  
  
I pull of my shirt and set it on a table, not trusting the floor to be clean. It smells like stale cigarettes and sex in the room.  
  
He goes for his pants, so I do, too. We're both already hard and he touches his erection, softly. I lick my lips without meaning to and pull out the lube and condoms from my pocket.  
  
"You don't need those", he murmurs, lightly touching me with his hands and cock when we're close enough, "You can ride me bareback."  
  
It takes a second to realize what he means and I almost get angry.  
  
"No, we use them, for my protection...as well as yours. You don't know me", I tell him and feel like I'm scolding a child.  
  
"Ok, ok, don't get upset. Whatever's fine."  
  
His lips lean forward and press against my collarbone, sucking the skin into his hot mouth. I suck in breath as his hand finds my hip, then the other slides across my ass.

He pulls me to him and everything tingles when my dick rubs against his. My hands move from his lower back up to the shoulder-blades. His teeth scrape against the bone, down to me chest. He bites me and it's hard enough to jolt me, even though it doesn't hurt.  
  
"Too much?" he asks, "Did I hurt you?"  
  
I grunt out, "No."  
  
His fingers lead me to the bed, guiding my arms, my waist, my dick.   
  
"I like being fucked", he tells me and I nod to let him know that it's fine. I'll have sex with him.  
  
He kisses me, gently. Lips soft and sweet, rubbing and wrapping around mine. His tongue curls around mine. I kiss back, tasting his drink and his excitement. His hand gropes my head, fingers tangle in my hair. The kiss gets deeper, harder. My lips feeling rough against his teeth. His other hand is by the edge of the bed, feeling for something. My fingers spread against his chest, one of them brushing against the nipple ring. He moans and my tongue feels his vibrations.  
  
The next thing I feel is cold metal against my upper arm.   
  
I feel a knife...  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliff-hanger. dun dun DUN.


	5. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VERY angsty this chapter. a little gory, too. be warned...Heero is working through some shit...  
> Lucky You by the Deftones would be good in the background for this.

Hopes, desires, shame, regret, and self-deprecation crash into my skull as I feel that knife carefully brush my flesh.

Snap reaction.

In an instant, he pinned below me, gasping in pain as my fingers squeeze against his wrists. The knife limply falls to the ground. I'm glowering down at him, his shocked eyes are wide and disbelieving. 

"Who are you? What do you want?" I hiss into his face, quickly.

Before I get answer, he does something completely unexpected...

He starts writhing under me. He pushes against me, gasping into my face. 

"Yessss," he moans,"Harder. Make me feel it."

I'm absolutely beside myself. 

Is this a tactic? Is he trying to save himself? Is he a maladroit assassin that was sent to kill me? Am I being watched? Does someone know this secret? Have I been followed?

"Were you planning on killing me?" I question fiercely and twist his wrists.

"Ah...what? No! We're still playing, right?" he asks, finally snapping back to whatever frame of mind he seemed to have before, "I just thought a little knife play would be fun. I didn't even cut you, it was just the dull side...I thought since you're tough, you wouldn't mind it a little rough."

I let it sink in. I can tell he's being somewhat truthful, but I don't understand...Why would he...? Knife play? Rough?

With disbelief and horror, something clicks in me. A coldness that I haven't felt in years, that I have felt holding onto the sweaty metal of a gun, pools inside me. Settles onto my gut, eroding it. I realize what he means...

"I think you like it a little rough," I say finally, gazing down at the fading scars.

He flushes, then admits, "Yeah, maybe. Yeah..."

"You like being dominated," I work out, obviously explaining what he already knows, "You saw me and that's what attracted you...You thought I looked like someone that could dominate you."

He mistakes me for talking dirty, for sexually belittling him. He squirms under me.

"Yes, please," he gasps, "Yes, I just want you to dominate me. I want you to fuck me dirty. I want you to make me hurt."

This is awkward. I don't understand his arousal. I don't know if I can participate in this fetish. I don't feel any different thinking about doing the things he says. I just feel weird, dirty, and honestly, a little silly. Like, all the things I've done, the people I've hurt and killed, have just been distilled for a fetish in a seedy motel room for quick sex. 

I have no idea how to even feel...

"Hurt me," he moans, rubbing his erection against my stomach, "I deserve it. Make me bleed."

I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to do. I'm reluctant. Extremely so. I feel almost sorry for him. Can I even do this? Will it even feel good? 

"Are you ok?" he asks suddenly and shyly, "Is this too weird for you?"

I almost tell him that, 'yeah, just a little', but I fumble. He looks so desperate and hot, flushed and fevered.

"It's just what I like," he says, licking his lips nervously, "You won't really hurt me. In fact, if you do, I'll say something. I'll say, 'Pink'."

Pink was the club I met him in. 

I feel my decision teeter in my head as I look at him. It's just for fun...and he wants it...plus it'll be something different and I've been wanting to experiment with fetishes...and he surely knows his limits...

His eyes cajole me. His chest rises and falls harshly, like his breathing is measure by my reaction. His erection digs into my stomach, unwavering and proud.

"Yeah," I tell him and he looks ecstatic, "Just say it if it's too much."

He nods ardently.

"I've never done this before," I warn him, "So, I'm not exactly sure what to do, but I'll try."

He starts to nod again, but it's cut off as I dig my fingers into his wrists, pushing him down. He gasps and his cheeks blush hotly.

I bend down and bite where the other bruised bite mark is, the juncture where the shoulder meets neck. His hips rise and he whimpers, rubbing against me, against anything. I join his hands together, so I can hold him down with just one of mine. My nails scratch against his chest, down his stomach, and up again. He moans low and quiet until I find his nipple ring, and then he's bursting with energy and noise. I tug on it a little and get a good response, he thrusts against me harder. My hand wanders roughly down to his hip and I hold him possessively. At this, I suddenly feel a ripple of pleasure. It dizzies me, it confuses me.

"Please," he moans, "Please, please. Hurt me more."

I remember what he said before, 'Make me bleed.' I shiver when I think of that, but I'm not sure from what emotion. I hope it's disgust. But...I want to please him.

I roll quickly off him and on to the floor. He looks surprised at the speed and departure until he sees what I'm heading for.

The knife feels unfamiliar and heavy in my hand. It's old military-grade...even possibly OZ. How long has it been since I've held onto one? When was the last time? Did I kill a man the last time I wielded a knife? I never would have thought of using it as a tool for sex, for pleasure, at someone else's request...

But you never know what tomorrow brings...

He gets up to climb off the bed, his foot hovering above the floor, when I command him, "Stay on the bed."

My voice vibrates through my throat, but hardly feels my own. The authoritative role doesn't fit well, it pinches and aches inside my chest. It soaks my head with voices from the past and of the conflagration I would conjure inside my mind when I would hear them, that blaze of suppressed rebellion. 

But he doesn't show rebellion or hatred, his face is washed in relief, in perverse pleasure. He obeys me with passion.

I stiffly walk to the bed again, like trudging through sand. He invites me ardently by spreading his legs for me, like a slut. Within the weight of nausea, there's a ribbon of excitement. He would probably do whatever I told him to do. I could take him right now, without foreplay, and he would want it. I could beat him and he would plead for more. He wants my sex. He wants me to do anything to him. He's reckless and not looking towards the future. He wants right now, fast and hard. I remember those days with the bounces of adrenaline and no promises. Just here, just now, and nothing else.

And do I miss them?

I push him down into the bed and kept pushing until he's grunting in pain. Just a little more. I won't go too far. This is for him.

I see my reflection in the blade and my eyes are narrow and vicious. Were they always like that? Did I look like that in the war? Was I always like this...?

The blade is flat against his chest as I draw it across, letting his nipples react to the cold and the stimulation. Air is sharply cut into his lungs as he feels it, as I hold his wrists above his head, as the knife recognizes his body once more. Slow strokes down his abdomen, gathering his heat.

"Please...," he chokes out and with trepidation I know what he's asking.

Carefully, the blade slides closer to his skin, teasing. Then closer, on his chest. Each time slide back and forth and closer to tasting his skin...

Then a thin, wet line of scarlet blossoms from his chest. My hand trembles when I see it, that red - the red that I know. The red I see in my sleep, over and over. The red I can't really ever escape from. This is it. The pain, the death, the icy destruction that I always seem to discover, seem to create. Trailing me, hunting me, and has found me in this plain motel room that's poorly lit and reeks of cigarettes.

"God, yes!" he cries out, startling - actually startling - me. I shake above him, and he trembles below me. My terror gliding over his elation. His erection barely touching mine, coaxing me, taunting me. 

"More, I can barely feel it," he begs, his eyes are on the ceiling, are on God, or on the mirror above us - looking back at himself. Looking at his own blood, at the knife, at my hand leading it.

My hand moves the blade before it can stop quaking, another line, mixing red together, creating more of itself. Spreading, over his pale skin, smearing on my hand. I look at it, feel him writhe and moan beneath me. I think about licking it, that red, imbibing what haunts me. Drinking what I've been hiding in the cold corridors of my mind. I think about it. My stomach protests, but I think about tasting it.

My mouth finds his throat instead, kissing and biting it. Thrusting against him, I feel the blood slip against our chests. His wrists twist and tug, and I push down harder, feeling a moan building in his chest. I crush my mouth against his throat, strangling that moan and crumpling it into shuddered gasps. His leg clumsily bends around me, wraps around my hip, and it's hot - very hot. I push my hips down into him, into the bed and keep pushing until we're both grunting in pleasure wrapped up in pain.

Everything is just pushing. Pushing his wrists, his neck, his groin - pushing, taking. And his cries beg me for more without words, guiding me and teasing me harshly for more, more, more. Harder, faster, cruder.

I pull back and I'm dizzy. Somehow he's suddenly a soldier, he's OZ. He's Duo. He's the bastards that called me useless and worthless. He's the one yelling for me to be re-programmed. He's everything that I hate and want. He's the anger that I harbor; he's the release that I've sought for. He's Zero. He's there, right in my head.

I don't really even feel when my fingers curl around his throat and tighten. The knife stretches against below his collarbone, deeper than before. His breath fading. He's hard. I'm hard. I'm swimming in adrenaline.

I pull my hand away from choking him, he sputters until I backhand him, solidly. He cries out, but no "pink". Part of me what's to know how far I can go, with him and inside my own boundaries. How far can I push myself? 

I don't see a soldier any more, I see a fuck-toy. I see an outlet. I see a punching bag.

I slap him, open-handed, across his face. I see it redden into a bruise already, I see blood on his teeth. But nothing pink from that mouth, he doesn't say a word. There's no "pink".

I kiss him, open-mouthed, tasting only blood in this kiss. He's hungry for it, his tongue and lips are grabbing, licking, sucking on anything I offer. Teeth grind together and it hurts. It's not a gunshot wound or setting my own arm, but some other kind of pain, something deep and rooted. I let go of the knife, I grab his face in my hands, mashing his lips and face against mine. His whimpers and moans are devoured by me, don't even feel a breath of existence. His hands grab my hair, twisting in it, pulling it towards him. 

I destroy the condom package, thrusting it onto my cock hastily. Kissing, smashing into each other, while I lube myself up. Lube falls through my fingers, squeezes out on thick handfuls, but finally meets the condom skin.

And that's all he wants and all I need. I pin his arms in the bed, legs over my shoulders, finding his hole with just instincts. It takes a few tries to find it, rubbing against his thighs, smearing the lube all around him, but I do find it. I dip my head into it before pounding one powerful thrust, all the way in him. He cries out, and it sounds like sobbing and laughing at the same time. I pull back and fuck him all the way again, relishing the wet, sloppy noise of sliding into him. His lungs sucking, grabbing for air, just to throw it back out in the midst of a wail.

No "pink".

His legs drop and wrap around me and it reminds me of Relena, but they clutch onto me, squeezing into my bones. For a moment, we look at each other, our eyes filling with each other. While still watching, I bend down and finally have the courage to lick his chest, to lap up the drying blood. His eyes roll back and his legs pull me in deeper, to the hilt, to the balls and it's so deep. I cough on my stuttered gasp as I'm inside someone deeper than I ever have been before. I feel like I'm stretching and reaching into him, feeling his heart brush up against my cock; I can feel his pulse everywhere. 

I jerk my cock out of him and impale him again, this time my voice is tangled in his as I groan with him. With an emphasized drag out, I shove back into his body. I shiver all over, shivering into him. 

"More," he wheezes out.

As a response, I slap him on the mouth as I bear down into him, deeply prodding him. Out of an impulse I lean down again and tug on his unpierced nipple with my teeth, and he opens more, taking in more of me. It's all taking, I'm just taking from him, and it feels good not to have to be gentle or careful. It feels good not to worry about hurting his feelings or being a guardian to him. Never having to pretend to be happy with him, just giving and giving - giving everything I've got.

In this moment, it's just charging into him, slapping him, just fucking and fucking...and taking.

My hands press against his neck as I slam into him, holding his throat closed. His face burns, glowing redder and redder, his eyes bulging. Fingers scratch against my wrists and arms. He writhes and I don't let go. 

I don't want to.

Suddenly, violently, loudly, and harshly, I cum. I pull my hands back to brace myself. I'm blinded as I feel ecstasy assault me, crush me, kill me. It feels like my heart stops, my lungs tear apart, and nothing remains of me. Nothing at all.

Slowly, I hear his gasp, sight returns, my heart stumbles on, and everything is how it was. He's writhing around me, while I'm still inside, he's still getting off on me being inside him. He bites down until there's blood on his lips, slipping into his mouth, and then cums. His semen finds my stomach, covering the drying blood and crusty sweat. 

Bile rises instantly, propels itself upwards like a rocket. I peel myself off of him, and lurch my body into the bathroom. My stomach greets the toilet, thrusting everything it held inside into the stained water. I'm shaking all over. I can't stop. Not just muted shivers, earthquakes in my body. Sickness of my mind poisoning my body. Infecting it with its impurity, with its vileness.

It never seems to be enough, my body continues to try to dredge up everything I've ever eaten, but there's nothing left...

I can still feel his neck in my hands, slowly collapsing. I can still taste his blood. I can still feel my anger, and that solid chill of ruthlessness that I was molded into. My cock is still hard from the joy of domination...and I'm still sick.

"Are you going to be ok?" I hear him say behind me, with candid concern for me, "Are you sick? Should I call any one?"

"Just go," I say between dry heaves, hanging onto the dirty toilet.

"Um...", he hesitates, but cheerily replies, "Ok. Thanks for the good time...I had a good time...So...thanks..."

I wait for the sound of the door. I hear him rustle his clothes on. 

I wait for the sound of the door. I hear him clean himself up. 

The door, I'm just waiting for the door. I hear the knife put away.

And then, finally, the sound of the door opening and closing.

I collapse onto the filthy floor that smells like piss and mold, and curl up into myself.

Blood in my mouth...His neck in my hands...His blood on my hands...

How long have I been promising to Relena that the war is behind me? How long have I been deluding myself? How long since I have held a weapon? How long have I been something more than a tool of destruction? 

How long have I been just ignoring the fact that I can't seem to ever escape it?

For the first time in years, I feel tears lured into my eyes, but don't give them the benefit of falling.

I can't ever get away...

I can't ever get away...


	6. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams aren't bad, I had turned back  
> I love the gun  
> But God only knows it's  
> Getting hard to see the sun coming through  
> I love you...  
> But what are we going to do?   
> \- Every Planet We Reach Is Dead by the gorillaz

I wake suddenly, in a panic. I'm on my feet, searching wildly for a clock. I don't remember sleep overtaking me. I don't remember any dreams. I don't remember allowing my body to.   
  
I find a clock. 3:25 a.m....Shit! Shit. I left at ten.

I calm my lungs, I slow my heart, I push everything else away.

I can't think of it right now. I need an excuse. I can't come home this late without a good alibi...  
  
I sit down and put my head in my hands, slowly breathing, slowly planning my next actions. The smell of sex and blood clings to me. It disgusts me. I don't what to lie out-right to Relena, I don't think I know how. There's no way that a walk would cause me to be this late, to have me this upset. If I don't come home, though, she'll know something's wrong...  
  
I think of my resources. I count my blessings. If I believed in God, I would pray.

I could try to go home and act like nothing happened. I could lie to her, make up some story that she would believe, completely trusting because she doesn't want to know the truth. Or I could...  
  
 _Hilde wasn't in town at the moment..._  
  
I remember that suddenly.

There's only a simple, old telephone in the room, but I press his numbers by heart and form the words of what I'm going to say and what I think he'll ask.  
  
"Mm-yeah?" I hear him ask sleepily into the phone, "Who's this?"  
  
"It's me,” I answer. I can hear him sit up suddenly.  
  
"What's up? Where the hell are you calling from? What's wrong?"  
  
"I'm fine,” I answer quickly, unease piercing my empty stomach, "Meet me at a cafe on ninth and main in twenty minutes."  
  
I hang up, knowing he'd be there. I turn the shower on as hot as it will go and literally just step in and out. I just needed the smell of him off me, with his blood. I looked at my reflection and resisted the urge to punch it.  
  
I've fucked up. I got sloppy. I let my emotions gets in the way of the mission...  
  
I stop. I freeze. I shake my head violently.   
  
"It's not a mission,” I tell myself out loud, "It's life. I've fucked up, I've just fucked up. Emotions are valid, _my emotions are valid_."  
  
I repeat the phrase that the psychologist I was mandated to go to told me to tell myself when I backtracked, but it doesn't work. I don't feel any different, and that's why I stopped going. Relena believed me when I said that I was fine without it. Just like she would believe me now.  
  
***  
  
He's already there, even though I'm on time. I sit down across from him and his question's on his lips. We sit in silence for a few seconds.  
  
"You look like shit," Duo points out after his coffee and the coffee he ordered me arrives.  
  
If he's going to help me out, he's going to need something from me.  
  
"I know."  
  
"So...what happened?"  
  
I drink my coffee, all of it, even though it's still hot, just to get rid of his taste, his blood.  
  
"I took a walk," I tell him.  
  
"To where, _Hell_?" he skeptically asks, pouring sugar in his coffee, but not stirring.  
  
"I'm starting to realize that I still think about it more than I thought..."  
  
He looks dark and disappointed, glaring at his cup.  
  
"I thought...," he begins and leaves it at that because we both know where it's going to end.  
  
"I don't want her to worry. She doesn't understand," I tell him and there's a question hidden in there - will he help me with an alibi?  
  
He sighs heavily and throws his arm over the booth, leaning back.  
  
"You gotta do something about this," he tells me, his eyes demanding it, "It's not fair to her, and not fair to you."  
  
I nod because I feel the same way, but who can I turn to? A doctor who has never held a gun? Group therapy of soldiers that _served_ , but weren't _made_ , weren't created and molding into being like I was. I'm unique. I'm different. And that's fine, I agreed to it. I had nothing else.  
  
"Maybe we can go together or something," he adds and shrugs carelessly, "I've got a lot...that tumbles around up there."  
  
He gestures to his head, pointedly, and I nod again.  
  
"Look, I'm not going to ask what happened," he says seriously, "And I will help you out, but you need to work this out. With me, alone, with her, with a freaking elephant - I don't care. Get it done, Heero."  
  
"Yeah," I reply.

We sit in an uneasy silence as he finishes the rest of his coffee and I pay the bill.  
  
***  
  
"Hey, Relena," Duo exclaims into the payphone, "I know how late it is...Oh, you were up?"  
  
He gives me a direct look after saying that before continuing, "Yeah, I'm just letting you know that Heero and I bumped into each other and we just realized what time it is. So, do you want me to send him home? He's a bit...well, we went out for a few drinks and just-...Are you sure? Okay, he'll see you tomorrow. Yeah, okay. Oh, don't thank me, it's no problem, I've got my eye on him. Yeah, you, too. 'Night."  
  
He hangs up and doesn't look pleased.  
  
"I hate doing that, Heero. I wouldn't do that for any one else..."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I hope you do...C'mon, let's go back to my place and get something to drink."  
  
Anxiousness slowly unties in my stomach, but leaves a bitter aftertaste as I walk with him. I should have just faced her, I should have just told her the truth...but I know there's no way how. I wouldn't even know how to say it. So, I won't...

We get back to his place and it's the first time that I can...sense that something is different than the previous visits. It's not just the little things of Hilde's that adorn the small apartment, but even the smell has changed. It used to be more Duo, just Duo, but now...it's different.

"I'd say excuse the mess," he says behind me, locking the door before turning around, "But she keeps me from getting the place too dirty."

I don't have anything to reply with, so I make my way to his sofa and sit down. He wordlessly goes the kitchen, opens the fridge and I hear the familiar ritual of alcohol.

He shows up with an opened bottle of beer for himself and one for me. I take it out of habit.

He sighs and sits down across from me on a worn ottoman that wasn't here last time. "You know, the funny thing is I usually always have something to say. But right now, I just don't know what, Heero. I know you won't answer if I ask, and I'm tired as hell to be polite with small talk. So..."

I take a sip and he follows me. I have no idea where this is going.

"I guess, let me ask you this, then. Since it's in the past and it's been a while that it's been bothering me..."

He pauses, before taking another sip. I follow this time.

"After I failed to self-detonate. After finding me in that cell...why didn't you pull the trigger? Why didn't you kill me?"

His question brings up flashes of memories - jumbled, garbled, and painfully still alive. Watching his failure replayed over and over, and knowing in the pit of my stomach that I would be commanded, _that it was in the best interest of the mission_ , to find and kill him. And that hesitation I felt burning through my entire body when I lifted the gun to his head.

And the shame I felt for that hesitation.

Why, indeed, had I let him live? I asked myself then, as much as I ask myself now.

The reason is so stupidly simple - because I wanted him to live. Because I _wanted_...

The silence spans between us, moving in waves, back and forth, as the small noises of the cheap apartment click and crack around us. He takes another sip, but I don't. He's waiting for something, either something banal or mystifying. Maybe something stupidly simple.

Something like maybe I thought I cared about him...

Maybe still do.

I don't break the silence and it lasts for his entire beer. Sighing, he sets his empty bottle aside and with ease, pulls mine out of my hands. I let him. I don't know what else to do. He drinks it without hesitation and softly says, "Come on. Let's go to bed. I've got the cot still."

And we leave it at that.

***

I can't smell it. I can't see it. But it's _felt_ , it's trembling in between the hairs on the back of my neck. It's hot and cold. It burns, stings, and leaves me shivering. I can hear it. I can hear it open it's mouth. I hear its hungry, deep panting. It's ready to eat me. It's ready to destroy me. It's here to swallow me.  
  
It bites into my leg.  
  
I'm on my feet and pressing it against the wall. I didn't even feel myself getting up, the muscles used, the weight of gravity. I don't feel my hands wrapped in its clothes, pushing it hard. It's like I'm still dreaming. It's like I'm still in space and weightless. It's like I'm still Alpha.. _.Alpha._..  
  
My mind snaps itself awake, bringing me into reality. Bringing the blood back into my hands, the feeling into my body. Sight washing over my eyes...The heaviness of Duo's body that I'm pushing against the wall and his resisting grunts.   
  
I drop him instantly and it's so fast, too fast to piece together. Too fast to understand.   
  
I drop to the cot, head in my hands, as I listen to his steps - first staggering and then slowly approach me, getting closer...  
  
Everything is too fast, blurring around me. My head is grasping all of it too slowly. Every part of me feels heavy and stretched, my limbs and even my heart beat. All stretched beyond time and gravity. I focus on breathing. On feeling my lungs pull and push the air around me. The air that smells like Duo.  
  
"Hey," he says after a long moment of sharp silence, "Are you okay?"  
  
No, I'm not. I'm not sure what's happening and I'm not sure what to do. I'm not sure how to take myself apart, to cut out the unnecessary things in me, and fix myself. _I need to calm myself. I'm over-reacting._ My body tells me this, with the way that it tenses and moves, with the way it's been programed. I'm not sure what to do...I'm not sure if there's anything I can-  
  
A very cautious and light hand places itself on my shoulder. My stomach rolls around, flutters, does things that it's not used to doing. The hand doesn't move. I count seconds to breathe, the dizziness in my head is stubborn to dissipate, but finally does.  
  
"You and me", he whispers by my ear, "We're going to go, we're going to get better, okay? We'll be together. If we gotta, we'll search around, we'll find the right person to help us...Things will be better, okay?"  
  
But he doesn't sound so assured, and honestly, neither am I.   
  
***  
  
" _Heero_ ", Relena admonishes me with a gentle smile when she sees me, "Did you have a little too much to drink? You've got circles under your eyes!"  
  
I try to give her any kind of smile, but my lips aren't in the mood.  
  
"Heero," her voice and face grow more concerned, "Is everything all right? You don't look all that well..."  
  
I decide to tell her, to get it out of the way, "I'm..."  
  
But I'm not sure what to say. I'm not sure how to tell her that I need someone else's help with my own problems. I'm not sure how to tell her that I lied, that I'm not really all right, that I'm not adjusting well to this lifestyle. _Her_ lifestyle...  
  
"I'm still having a hang-over," I complete the thought after a short pause.  
  
She doesn't look convinced, her eyes are soft and worried, "Is there any thing else?"  
  
"No," I comfort her, "I'm just tired, I didn't have a very good sleep."  
  
I never do when I dream about death and with J.  
  
"Would you like to take a nap?" she asks, with quiet gentleness.  
  
I nod and take her hands. She smiles with subtle doubt in her eyes. I lead her to the bedroom and she follows without a word, just letting me guide her. Trusting me...  
  
When we slip into bed, I hold her the way she likes. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest and it comforts me, it reminds me of why I fought, of why I survived...  
  
"I love you, Heero," her tender words move and stretch across my neck, "More than anything..."  
  
"More than anything", I reply into her smooth hair, my hand finding and then caressing her back.  
  
After some time, I feel the heartbeats and breath slow into a shallow sleep. Her warmth envelopes me and the delicate smell that is unique to Relena, that is Relena, fills my lungs, fills my head, _fills everything_. This is why I survived...  
  
I lie awake and feel her sleep against me...  
  
 _This is why I survive each day..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things unraveling...


	7. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero meets a comrade in his struggle...

"Oh Heero, don't give me that look," Relena laughs behind her gloved hand, "I told you about this two weeks ago."  
  
I frown more; I try to pout for her benefit, to hear her laughter. I'm rewarded.  
  
"That doesn't make the situation any better," I reply dryly.  
  
This is a game we play, only her and I. Honestly, I'm not too fond of these parties and don't really know why she is -maybe for the gossip, maybe just to show me off, maybe for good relations - but I always have to be crotchety and she always tries to palliate going. And although the parties are usually bland, boring, and less fun than shooting my own leg, I do enjoy this little game. It almost makes it worth the party.  
  
"But Heero, the Dahlstrome's have been good friends of my parents for many years," she coaxes me, "And my mother will be there."  
  
I offer an annoyed look, the one I'm supposed to give her when I hear about her mother. The old "mother-in-law" joke that all husbands snicker to each other about. It amuses her, too.  
  
She giggles more, both hands covering her pretty, glossy lips. She looks very pretty with her make up. She doesn't need it, I tell her that whenever she puts it on, but it's nice to see on occasion. It's cute watching her lips shine from the gloss and her eyes to peek up from the soft pink that covers her eyelids. All soft and shiny and girly. It's cute. It's opposite of everything I've ever had in my life.  
  
"Well, there will be steak and other delicacies. The caterer, I've heard, is terrific!"  
  
"If you want food, I could cook," I tell her defiantly.  
  
She laughs so hard, tears moisten her eyes. That's another joke between us. I've never tried to cook, I've never had the desire to, but I tell her that I will sometimes. I assure her that it must not be any harder than making MREs and she laughs. She has never even had to eat an MRE in her life.   
  
"Just be sure you'll have enough, for everyone,"she jokes, breathy from laughing, and gently touching the edges of her eyes with a handkerchief.  
  
"No, there will be enough," I tell her, like I'm honestly considering the possibility, "There will most likely be left-overs, too, but they should remain edible for another ten years."  
  
I relax into her laughter as the car pulls into the ostentatious yard of the hall. Fountains are glistening on the lawn, spewing out treated blue water everywhere. Fountainheads of fish and herons and frogs and God knows what else, all elegantly carved from the finest metals, no doubt.   
  
Relena smirks a little when she sees it, too, and mentions quietly, "They certainly like showing they attend to the wealthy."  
  
"They certainly like fountains," I reply and feel a ripple of amusement as she, very improperly, snorts in efforts to suppresses her laughter.  
  
"All right, dear," she says with a subdued grin, "We must behave ourselves or else we wont be invited back."  
  
I look at her, "So...all I need to do is misbehave?"  
  
She doesn't stop the chuckle that eases out of her lips as she is escorted out of the car.  
  
***  
  
"Oh, that's Amaila Haverina," she whispers carefully, so as not to call attention, "She's the heiress that tried to seduce Edmund Tarinkovski, the composer at Victoria Bagrationi's announcement of her pregnancy..."  
  
"Oh," I reply, but don't remember her.   
  
"The party two months ago," she reminds me.  
  
"Oh," I say again and she shakes her head and smiles.  
  
I watch around as people are escorted everywhere, it seems, like they're children that need to be watched after. I understand the idea is that you're being served, that someone is looking after you and all your desires, but it makes me uncomfortable. I like walking to go get my own drink. I like going into the bathroom by myself. I don't want anyone waiting to hand me a towel, I can pick up my own damn towel.  
  
"I'll return shortly," I tell Relena in the polite manner of speaking that I am awkwardly getting accustomed to.  
  
She nods and smiles, the lips reflect the chandelier's light. I hope she brought more gloss, it'll be wiped away before the main dish. I'm surprised they don't hire someone to wipe your lips for you with the over-sized fabric napkins provided...  
  
"May I escort you, sir?" A waiter approaches me in less than five seconds after I've stood up. I would be impressed if I wasn't already irritated.  
  
"No, but I have a request," I tell him sternly, "I'd like to know of a restroom that doesn't have a..."  
  
I pause because I don't know what the name, the proper name, for it is.  
  
"A man waiting on me", I conclude, but it's uneasy, "I want a bathroom without staff."  
  
He hesitates with surprise and thinks quickly, "Yes, sir, I'll escort-I mean, if you follow the hall way to the right, the second hallway turn right again until you've a painting of a swan, it will be on the left hand side."  
  
"Thank you," I say, gratefully.  
  
I follow the directions, being pestered another three times before I find it and I'm glad. It's deserted, it's empty, it's quiet. I let the annoyance slip off my shoulders and relieve myself.  
  
When I get back, there are more guests at the table. A woman that looks about Relena's age with black, inky hair and dark coffee eyes. Next to her, sitting next to my seat, is a man, maybe a few years older. He's very handsome, I notice with an inner twitch, having light brown hair, lighter than Duo's, and thoughtful brown eyes. His outward appearance is handsome, but it's his presence that intrigues me. His demeanor is quiet, but intellegent, calm and dignified. Definitely not like a boy that I would meet at some club, but just as alluring. I crush the thought. I feel disgust swell in my stomach at the thought as I watch Relena happily chat with them.  
  
"Here you are, Heero," Relena exclaims and smiles to them, "This is my husband."  
  
The woman smiles and warmly says, "Miss Relena was telling us about you, Mr. Yuy"  
  
"Please call me Relena," Relena quickly encourages.  
  
As I sit down, I'm introduced.  
  
"Heero, this is Gloria L'Esperence and her husband, Germaine L'Esperence. They know Quatre!"  
  
"Only in passing," Gloria quickly adds, "Germaine was born on L4 and we occasionally take trips there to visit his mother. Sometimes his mother invites us to parties there and we have been introduced to Mr. Winner and Ms. Cocozza."  
  
"Pardon me, Ms. Cocozza?" I ask, confused.  
  
"Ms. Cocozza," Relena quietly, almost shyly, informs me, "Is courting Quatre...I didn't realize you didn't know..."  
  
"I see," I say and leave it at that. I didn't know that it was serious, their relationship. I didn't know that I _should have_ known. I try not to pry into my friends' lives.  
  
"Are you enjoying yourself, dear?" Gloria asks her husband with a slight smirk.  
  
He smiles, but doesn't answer, like it's _their_ private joke.  
  
"He doesn't really like these parties," Gloria explains and Relena and I can't help but to share our own small grin.  
  
"That's a true shame," Relena replies and it makes me want to laugh. I don't, but I can feel it in my chest. The warmth, it's there.  
  
"If I may ask," Relena changes the subject, "I'm not familiar with your family Mr. L' Esperence, what is your family's expertise?"  
  
"Technology," he explains, but it's quiet and half-hearted, and I feel like I may have a comrade in this party, "Especially military. My father profited very well during the war and put most of it into stocks and bonds, so it's able to last even now."  
  
Relena nods, interested.  
  
"Although Germaine was never really a business man," Gloria adds with a teasing tone, "Not even during the war."  
  
"Oh", my wife exclaims, "What did you do during the war then?"  
  
Suddenly Gloria flushes and looks uncomfortable. There's an awkward silence at the table before Germaine tells us, in his even and low voice, "I was a soldier."  
  
It makes sense now. Now that I know and look back, when I first saw him, he had a certain awareness. His demeanor, it makes sense.  
  
"I was an OZ soldier," he concludes, taking a sip of water.  
  
There's a deathly stillness at our table. There's life and movement all around us, there's laughter and music surrounding us, but we're all so still, like an unexpected death has occurred. Like we're frozen in the moment.  
  
I'm not sure how to feel about his admission and I can see shocked hesitancy on Relena's face as she struggles to look polite and civil. I look to her for what to do.  
  
"Of course," Gloria adds, trying to save face, "He really never saw action because of the accident. Three months after training, something went wrong in his suit, right dear?"  
  
"The GX-165 system power supply burned back because of faulty parts...The OZ engineers were jokes. They just made them, the suits, but didn't care about quality. They were almost made to break", he elucidates, with an edge of bitterness that burns into me, that finds my own bitterness.  
  
"The power supply?" Relena queries.  
  
"It controls 24% of the core power," he explains patiently, "When it burns back, it can cause an explosion from the inside-out."  
  
"Goodness!"  
  
"I was lucky, it only snapped back the floor plate."  
  
"But," Gloria quickly includes, "He had to go through three years of therapy..."  
  
He gives her a scowl. "It wasn't so bad."  
  
"You're lucky to be alive," Relena replies.  
  
"We all are," he quietly answers and it feels true.   
  
Whatever I feel, it isn't hate. I don't hate him. Just how he talks and moves...I somehow don't hate him. I like him, in fact, even though I could have easily killed him during the war. He could have died because of me...and I wouldn't have felt anything about it.   
  
I think of Sylvia Noventa suddenly, she probably goes to parties, right? Her grandfather could have been at a party like this one, enjoying Ms. Dahlstrome's engagement announcement. Laughing with that table over there, he could have been happy here...  
  
My stomach twists and I don't feel like eating anything...ever.  
  
"But that's all in the past, right dear?" Gloria asks with an uneasy grin to her husband.  
  
Again, he smiles slightly, but doesn't answer.  
  
Our food is served and I can hardly look at it.   
  
I look at the plate, about twenty different lettuces leaves and three different tomato slices that all probably costs more than most meals that I've had, and all going to be thrown in the trash, while children are _still_ starving in L2...  
  
I shift in my seat and brush up against something next to me. With embarrassment, I realize that it's his, _Germaine's_ , leg. As I'm about to move it back and offer a wordless apology, it moves against mine, shallowly echoing my movement. Surprised, I look at him. His head is bent to eat his salad, but his eyes snap to me. He doesn't look angry or sexy or threatening, just slightly curious...as if asking me something...  
  
I quickly look back down at my salad, at the different colours of green, as I feel my heart become louder and stronger. He just didn't...did he? No...No, of course not. It was an accident. It was just a look. It wasn't anything. He's not...  
  
The salad is taken from me and replaced with soup that will probably meet the salad's fate.  
  
"Is everything all right, sir?" the waiter asks as he holds my salad, "Was everything to your liking?"  
  
"I'm just not very hungry," I tell him and he nods and pardons himself away.  
  
I feel a brush on the leg again and nearly jump, being startled. That was...intentional. It had to be. I look at his reflection in my glass and he is calmly eating his soup. No tell-tale expression. I glance at Relena, who is eating her soup daintily, oblivious to what's going on.   
  
She does look up when she feels my eyes on her,"Are you all right, Heero? You didn't touch your salad..."  
  
"I'm..not hungry."  
  
"Not feeling well?" she asks, low, so that only I can hear.  
  
I give a slight nod and set my napkin on the table.  
  
"Excuse me," I tell everyone and stand, "I need to use the restroom."  
  
I walk off with two waiters trailing behind asking if they can escort me somewhere...  
  
***  
  
In the private bathroom, I run the water in the sink and lean against the wall, just listening to it. I force my lungs to suck in all the air they can, and harshly push it back out. I get dizzy, but I still feel like I'm suffocating. I look at the stalls lined up in front of me, so clean that they reflect and distort me. My stable, strong body becoming warped and flimsy. Breakable...unreliable..twisted...  
  
I push away from the wall and cup my hands under the faucet, feeling the gelid water; so cold, it numbs my fingers. I lean down and pull the water to my face. The water stretches and clings to my skin, the sting of its coldness lessening into a numb stiffness. I wash my face again and again, cleaning and numbing and calming...  
  
I tense when I hear the door open and close behind me.  
  
The footsteps are stiff and heavy and I wait, I don't look up. I give who it is the chance, the opportunity to ignore me...when I'm at my weakest...and I don't understand why, I don't understand myself...  
  
"Relena asked me to check on you," Germaine tells me and his voice sounds so much louder in the stillness, much more explosive and powerful now that we're away from the party.  
  
I pull myself up and wipe of my face with a towel. I don't turn to him yet, but gingerly glance at him in the mirror, at his reflection. He's leaning against the blue tile wall next to the first stall, he's looking at me with his arms crossed.  
  
There's painful silence when I turn off the water, just us, just quietness.  
  
Just two ex-soldiers. Just two civilians. Just a mouth full of regret and the past digging into my muscles. My past, his past. _Everyone's past._ The past that won't stay silent, won't be still, will just always be painful.  
  
Just two people...  
  
"Do you want to?" he finally asks me, slowly, and brutally direct.  
  
"Want to...?" I ask him back, wanting to know exactly what he's asking.  
  
"Forget for as long as we can..."  
  
There's bile that rises, that touches the back of my throat, when I nod to him.  
  
He opens the stall door as an invitation. The heaviness returns, carrying excitement and relief...  
  
"You can't tell them," I warn.  
  
He shakes his heads and replies, "This doesn't have anything to do with them. They don't need to know."  
  
My steps jar the rest of my body as I walk into the stall with him...My heart smashes up against by bones as he shuts the door...My conscience tells me that I will regret this, this weakness that I submit to, most of all, as I feel his hands touch me...  
  



	8. Scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero and Duo begin therapy, as Heero contemplates his feelings towards Duo. 
> 
> Sexual content in this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good song to listen to during this chapter: "If You Could Read My Mind" (cover) by Henry Jamison

My blood feels hot, almost painful in my veins and pushing from my heart, as his face is close to mine. My chest aches in all new kinds of ways; this man knows me - knows _me_. He knows my wife, he knows my name, he knows my face, he knows all kinds of things about me that I don't know yet. My legs shake as he presses himself against me, against the stall, I feel like running away. I should. I should run, just get away to...to anywhere. It doesn't matter. Just break away.  
  
He's quiet, very quiet, and so am I. Just breath softly puffed out, just a silent shuffle of clothes rubbing against clothes, and my heart thumping in my ears, in my chest.  
  
He hungrily humps against me, his hands feeling my body, trying to know it through my clothes. His lips by mine, pulling my air, tasting my scent, but not kissing. I don't know where my hands are, what they're doing, I'm too concentrated on listening, hearing just beyond the door to passing waiters and other staff. I hear laughter and bitching about the rich muttered just outside the door.  
  
His hands reach into my pants and pull out my erection. I could push him down, I could bash his head into the wall. I could say that it was an accident, he had an accident. I could make it look like an accident. I don't need to do this...I could escape this...I can escape this, if I wanted... _He doesn't need to know me after this..._  
  
His careful brown eyes pin me to the wall, studying me as he pulls on my cock. I don't like it. I don't like how he's looking at me, how his lips are close to touching mine, but just hovering. I pull him to me, I try to kiss him, but he moves his head and my lips are on his cheek. I pull back and feel awkward, like my bones are shaped wrong, and it feels odd moving and breathing. I don't understand...  
  
He just shakes his head and kisses my cheek in return. Still all funny inside...  
  
Then he kneels, watching me as he lowers himself, as if he's submitting to me and I feel a different kind of funny. I don't know what it is, like arousal and embarrassment. I wish I knew the right word; I wish that I knew all the words that meant what I'm feeling because I never do.  
  
Warmth and wetness sucks my cock in and I almost forget it's his mouth because it feels so different somehow. His breath and saliva reach across my skin, immersing my skin, drenching me in a reckless pleasure. My mouth reacts, and I forget about the silence, about running away, and the secrecy. I want to _be noise_ , I want to be loud and careless. I moan out and let it be.  
  
He abruptly stops and murmurs against my erection, blowing against it, "Quieter."  
  
So, I try and it's difficult. I've always been exceptional at being able to do several things at once, but listening, being silent, taking pleasure, and simply just standing are stealing all of my energy.  
  
His lips pull it in, suck it in - Oh, God. I feel like I'm already going to cum soon. It's all plush and wet and I don't know anything that feels like this. I don't think anything could. I don't know if it's skill or hunger, or even, maybe just maybe, I am myself with him.   
  
His fingers curl under my testicles as he pulls me forward, more into him. I look down and see his eyes closed, his mouth closed around my erection, tight and hot. He's pulling me in deeper, then leans back and swallows my cock up again, like I'm fucking his mouth - and I **am** fucking his mouth. My hands thrust into his hair, pulling on it, pushing his face forward and instinctively, my hips hump into his waiting, open mouth. I _am_ fucking his throat. I can feel the saliva slide down my leg, I can feel the traces of teeth. I can feel the suction, tugging on my skin, faster and harder and louder.  
  
And then it's there, all there, suddenly. I'm smashing into an orgasm. I'm erupting into his mouth, feeling myself cum in his mouth, the semen mixing with the spit as I still move in and out. One of my hands stretches back to brace myself from falling, but the other's still clutching his hair, shaking and sweating. His mouth is still swallowing and sucking.  
  
After a few short seconds, he pulls back and uses toilet paper to wipe his face and neck. I watch him, still dizzy from the orgasm and the paranoid suspicion. After he washes out his mouth in the sink, he leaves without a word, and without waiting for a word from me.  
  
I collapse on the ground, pressing my head against the cool tile of the wall.  
  
I can't control my heart and it worries me. It's so fast and stubborn. I slow my breathing, but it's still thudding in my throat and stomping in my ears. Not even old protocols that I haven't needed to use in years doesn't help.  
  
I can't slow it down...I'm losing control again.

And it scares me.   
  
***  
  
When I finally get back, Relena is concerned, but doesn't say anything.   
  
I can hardly look her in the face. I wonder where all my steely bravado went when I can't even look Germaine in the face. I wonder why I'm slipping. I wonder how far I will slip. This isn't like me...  
  
"Germaine said that you seemed ill in the bathroom," she whispers to me when Germaine and his wife leave the table for a dance, "Are you all right, Heero? You didn't look sick before we came or else I never would have-"  
  
"I'm okay," I tell her and hold her hand, "I just want to go home..."  
  
After a moment, the fiery determination that I admire so much flickers in her eyes.  
  
"Let me just tell them goodbye," she says and nods, "And let me say goodbye to my mother and we'll go home. The food wasn't that great, anyway."  
  
Then she gives me an encouraging smile and a shy, little wink.   
  
After a few minutes, she returns and tenderly tugs my arm, "Let's go home."  
  
And she doesn't know how relieved that makes me.  
  
Just as we're heading out the door, I feel his eyes on me, like in the bathroom. I should turn around, I should be able to look him in the eyes without shame, but I don't. I keep walking and wonder what I'm becoming.  
  
***  
  
I repress the urge to bounce my leg and hastily flip through magazines like Duo's currently doing. I just look around and study the small waiting room. It's brown, very brown. Wood walls, wood tables, and horrible olive green and brown carpet. I wonder if that means anything, I mean psychologically. Is brown supposed to have a calming affect on patients, or did they just get a blind interior decorator?   
  
I cringe as I think the word: patient. I am a patient. A therapy _patient_. It doesn't settle in my stomach. I can tell that it doesn't settle in Duo either as he flips each page, not even paying it any attention; he just likes to fiddle with something. It's not the first time I've noticed it, and it's not that I mind it, it just makes me nervous what they doctor will think about it. What does it mean that I can't see? What am I doing that will reveal _myself_? Will he be able to tell just by looking at me? Will he see that I'm unfaithful, that I think about Duo all the time? Will he force me to confront him?  
  
I suddenly don't feel like being here. I start to think of an excuse, one that will pacify Duo.   
  
"Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Yuy?"  
  
We both snap our heads in the direction of our names. A nurse, or receptionist, or something. She smiles.  
  
"The doctor will see you now. Please come this way."  
  
As we both stiffly and awkwardly stand, Duo offers me a wry smile and jokes, "Eh, now or never, right?"  
  
I don't answer, but I do follow the nurse.  
  
"This office please," she says and abandons us.  
  
We both look lost at each other before the door opens and there's a short woman peering out.  
  
"Mr. Maxwell, Mr. Yuy! Please come in and have a seat."  
  
A...woman. It's a little bit of a surprise, but we both enter and sit in large chairs that groan faintly at each breath we make. I glance around the room. There's drawn posters of the world and some of the colonies, like the ones from high school. There's books, a lot of books, in various bookshelves. And there's models, models of mobile suits and tanks. I recognize all of them. I know where their weaknesses are. I know the date they were manufactured and when they were discontinued.  
  
I also see a first generation Leo shell casing making a very functional door stop to a closet. It feels so out of place. So do I.   
  
"Thank you for coming, gentlemen," she says, closing the door and taking her seat behind a huge cherry wood desk, "May I call you Duo and Heero, or would you prefer Maxwell and Yuy? Or something else?"  
  
"Duo's fine," he says and smiles.  
  
I nod in agreement because both are not really mine to give, and she continues, "If you'd like, you may call me Janine. Or if you prefer, Dr. Marylo."  
  
We both nod and wait for her instruction.  
  
"I heard that you would like to take sessions together...We normally do separate sessions, but I understand the unique situation. However, if I were to ask for a session or two with just one of you, would that be all right?"  
  
It's obvious that we're both hesitant and she quickly adds, "How about we talk about that later?"  
  
"First," she says, politely smiling but tightly, "I would like to ask you why you're here and what you'd like to accomplish or achieve."  
  
We both seemed stuck, exchanging a fast look before Duo speaks up, pawning off a reason that seems a lot like bullshit. It occurs to me that he doesn't know why, either. We're here because it feels there's no real place for us, that after the war, the world had changed, but we didn't. Time continually moving ahead and as the world spun and kissed and healed, we had not. We remained immortal soldiers. We both remain solders...  
  
The real reason I came here was for Duo, I had to satisfy Duo, and honestly I didn't think he'd actually make an appointment. I know he's good for his word, but I had thought that he would quietly let me off the hook and forget about it. He knows that I'm not the type for therapy, so I thought he'd drop it...  
  
Apparently not.  
  
"And what about you, Heero?"  
  
I look up at her. She doesn't have the expectant gaze that Duo has, but a calm, curious demeanor, as if she's asking about the time or where I'm from, not why I'm talking to her, paying her, to help with my "emotional distress".  
  
"I'd like be able to have a better relationship with my wife and peers," I answer and it's Duo's answer, just in fewer words.  
  
She nods slowly and leans back in her chair, "Gentlemen, I would like to introduce myself more thoroughly and candidly. I know that it must seem like I don't know anything about being in combat. I'll admit, I've never been under fire and I've been safe and sound, going to college for several years. However, my family has a long history of soldiers. My father was MP for most of his life. My grandfather was a Field Medic. My great-grandfather was an Ammunition Specialist. I have four uncles - two in Navy and two in Colony Air Support, and my sister was in special forces as an Engineer Sargent in the last war. I currently have two nephews and one niece in the Preventers."  
  
She takes a sharp breath before continuing, "I have never seen war, but I have seen what war has done to the people I love. I have had several patients with huge success...And I have seen patients that haven't changed at all. I have been around the men and women of war my whole life, so although I don't know of your exact experiences, nor your personal feelings, please trust that I know how people, how soldiers, often think and feel."  
  
Nodding, she adds,"What you get out of my sessions is up to you and although it may seem perhaps callous or abrupt to some people, I believe you'll appreciate my directness. If you don't want this, leave and don't come back. I don't want to waste my time and your money. I've seen so many people pushed into counseling by spouses and families, when the person doesn't want to work towards a goal, _their goal_ , to 'have a better relationship' with the world.  
  
"It's difficult, I won't lie. I would expect you to dredge up memories that feel best left forgotten. And that's because they can't be forgotten, they can't be ignored, so they must be explored and realized. I will expect that you confront them. That's why I think it'd be easier if some sessions were alone, but if you prefer to include each other, by all means, do.  
  
"But if you're not here for you, for your situation, then maybe you don't belong here..."  
  
Duo and I are silent, as we roll her words around, test their weight and merit.  
  
"Gentlemen, why don't you go home and think about it. I won't charge you for this session, call it a free consultation. If you think you're up for it, give my office a call. If not, then I wish you the best of luck."  
  
As we walk back to Duo's car, he's still flipping around her card in one hand, his thumb caressing over it, then back to flipping it. We don't say anything.  
  
When he starts driving he says, "I like her. She doesn't bullshit around..."  
  
I don't do anything because I don't want him to think it as encouragement. I just look out the front window and then back to him. He glances at me from the corner of his eye.  
  
"Not many doctors are like that..."  
  
We're almost to my house before I understand that he's telling me that he wants to go back.  
  
I don't respond.  
  
***  
  
I erase everything I've just typed, frustrated. I didn't think this would be so difficult.  
  
I glare at the blank screen. I intimidate it to come up with something good, something inspirational...  
  
It doesn't, although I'm not surprised.  
  
"How's it coming?" Relena asks as she enters the room with a tray, some tea and cookies. I don't really like sweet things, but I grab for one.  
  
I give her a look and she giggles and jokes, "That good, huh?"  
  
She offers a cup and I take it and set it down to cool.  
  
"Well, what do you like about Duo? What else happened during the war? Was there a time that you really depended on him?"  
  
"No, I couldn't depend on anyone," I respond, but it sounds a lot colder, a lot more barren that I meant it to.  
  
"Oh, Heero," she breathes and her hand rests on mine, her pity wrapping all around me. I didn't mean it like that.  
  
"I mean," I tell her, looking into her eyes, "I wasn't meant to. I had to, at times, depend on them, but I..."  
  
 _I hated it._   
  
For some reason, this saddens her even more. I can't seem to make her happy. I wish I knew how to talk to her.  
  
"It doesn't matter," I assure her, turning my hand over to hold hers, "It's the past."  
  
She leans in and softly kisses me. Then kisses me again, lingering and clinging. More of it, opening and closing, our lips sliding and wetting against each other. Tasting love and care and unending concern.   
  
Her hands tangle in my hair, holding me to her, pulling me. Her tongue eases into my mouth, finds traces of me that she devours, pieces of love that only I can give and only she can have. Deeper, wetter, and softer.  
  
She pulls and leads me to the ground, on the soft, carpeted ground, and she's bending over me, kissing me and touching me. Her hands calm me, lull me, as they slide across my clothes. It's not as arousing as it is something else, something that coils in my chest, weaving in the muscles. It feels safe.   
  
Fingers flick at my buttons, teasing them open as her mouth still gently kisses mine, as her breasts heave against my shoulder. Our skin meets, recognizes each other, and invites more. More touching, more skin. Our bodies together, intimate, and bare. Her clothes slip off and mine slowly unravel off my body. More nakedness, more skin, more of something that I feel swell and ache inside. It's not lust, not sexual. This doesn't feel sexual, but feels just as good, maybe better. Yeah, better. Something that's soft and pretty, like Relena, that's tender and hopeful, just like her.  
  
My body responds without thought and I don't even have time to feel relieved or the pressure of her possible disappointment. Suddenly, she's all around me and I'm inside her. I watch her as she bucks her hips on top of me, her hair covering one of her breasts. Her moans flicker out of her mouth, lilting like feathers in the air. She looks down on me as she slowly pushes up and down, getting used to me inside her, getting used to the position.  
  
"Heero," she sighs and leans forward, her breath on my forehead, curling down to my nose and lips, "I love you. I love you so much."  
  
And, taking the risk of sounding strange or even perverse, when she bends down to kiss me, the whole thing seems like we were children. Like we have discovered something new and wonderful; not sexual, not what I feel with other men, but something sweet and secret. I wonder if this is what it's supposed to feel like - sex. Maybe I am just being perverted, because it feels so different. I wonder if this is what all children feel when they find something new with a friend, when they find out what a kiss is, when they try it just to see how it feels.   
  
And it feels good as she kisses me again.  
  
She's so wet, I slide so easily in her, I feel the wetness crawl down to my testicles. It's so different, just lying there and letting her do it. I grab her hips and thrust into her a little, but she has all the control. She goes fast when she wants to, slow when she wants to feel me deep in her. I love it and I don't know why. I love watching her please herself on me, riding me as hard or soft as she wants, feeling her open wider and wider...  
  
"Oh Hee~ro," she moans, growing louder, bouncing faster and harder, grinding herself into me.  
  
By just the stimulation and seeing her face twist in her pleasure, her own paradise that she makes with each thrust of her hip, I feel myself get closer to climaxing.   
  
Her eyebrows shoot up and she exclaims, "Oh! I feel it! I can feel you get so hard, it's so hard!"  
  
And that's all it takes. I clench up, I plummet into the warmth and the tendrils of excitement. Her lips find my ear as I spasm and cum inside her, they tug and whisper, "I love you, Heero."  
  
After the last jerk, I feel exhaustion cover me. Maybe I'm losing my endurance.   
  
"I love you," she says again and kisses my mouth chastely, "Was it good?"  
  
I nod and continue to rediscover air, breathing raggedly.  
  
"Me too," she blushes, "Maybe we can do it like that more...I liked it. It felt... _really good_."  
  
I nod again and look at her, giving her a smile and getting one back.  
  
"Heero," her smile falters so slightly, "I just want you to know that you make me happy."  
  
Air sticks to my throat. I don't know where that just came from. I don't know what to make of it or what to say.   
  
Before I can even begin to form something or she can explain it or why it feels so sudden, there's a knock on the door.  
  
"Mrs. Yuy?"   
  
"ONE MOMENT!" she calls out louder than she needed to.   
  
Her face bursts into red as she scrambles to her clothes.  
  
"Chancellor Dukannon has arrived early," one of Relena's assistants calls through the door.  
  
"Good! That's wonderful! Please tell him to wait in the sitting room! Thank you!" she nervously exclaims, hastily getting dressed.  
  
I chuckle at her and she gives me a mock annoyed look.  
  
"Well, I didn't expect him this early," she tells me as her buttons are thrown into their respective holes, "I though I had time for..."  
  
We're still so new at this, being young. However, I still end her sentence in slang, in what I've heard, but never used.  
  
"A quickie?"  
  
She flushes deeper, but laughs to me, shaking her head.  
  
"Have fun finishing your best man's speech," she quips, with a teasing smirk.  
  
"It's better fun than Chancellor Dukannon," I retort as I slide my pants back on.  
  
She sighs and mutters, "Probably so."  
  
We share one more small, secret smile before she's out the door and discussing whatever new agenda that's been mapped out for the benefit of mankind.  
  
I turn back to the screen. I remember what she said, _was there a time that you really depended on him?  
_  
Was there a time that in some way I didn't? Wasn't I always trying to figure him out, to know him deeper, wanting to be just normal kids? Did I ever know how to be around him?   
  
I remember wanting to be his friend, but not needing friends. Wanting to know him, but not being able to get too close. Opening up, but never showing myself.   
  
The more I grow into a man, I begin to realize how immature and how foolish it was to send in children, to mold children, to fight a war that was created by men. It shouldn't have been expected of us, _of me_. We had lost so much already, but then to lose our innocence and the privilege to learn life at our pace. We were pushed into growing up. We were forced into losing the importance of a first kiss, of celebrating Christmas, of awkward crushes, of first standing up for yourself against a bully, and of just finding friends. We weren't meant to be friends.  
  
We were meant to be soldiers. We were meant to be sacrifices.  
  
So, here we are, learning all these priorities that seemed to futile back then. I'm learning how to be a human, a civilian. I'm learning what it means and what it takes to be a good friend. I'm learning about sexuality. I'm learning about not holding a gun up to my head, figuratively and literally. I'm learning how to breathe again after a world of death. I'm learning and learning and it scares the shit out of me. Here are all these experiences that I've never imagined for myself and feelings that I can't explain. It all scares the _shit out of me_.  
  
I look at the computer keys. I know them all. I can type blindfolded with just one hand and know where they are. I think back, disgusted, at all the mission reports I had to type, along with some bullshit homework. The mission reports, the worse part, and only later did I realize that I was the only one og the pilots that tried so hard with them. Duo's would be short, post card-y notes: _Things are great. At 1200, I destroyed the 18726CM base. Wish you were here.  
_  
 _"Was there a time that you really depended on him?"_  
  
I begin to type.  
  
If I had followed my mission, Duo would not be here today. If I had allowed myself to remain the person that I was trained and expected to be, Duo would be dead...  
  
It's a start and all I need is a new start.


	9. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero recalls his sexual history.

There's dreams. They start soon after. I can't remember them too much, just shapes and figures, and a useless plot. But, for once, they're not nightmares; they're flesh pressing against me, they're the pressure of a cock inside me, they're kissing and sucking. They're new and confusing. I wake up and there's semen in my underwear, dry and cracked.   
  
They don't have faces or names, just touches. Little incubi.

I've never had wet dreams before, even though I was trained regarding it. Normal, just the body flushing itself from hormones and excitement. Nothing to be worried about. But that was then and this is different.   
  
Relena doesn't say anything about it, maybe doesn't know anything about it. So, I usually just get up and shower. I clean it off me.   
  
There's a dinner that we're invited to tonight. Tomorrow is another appointment for the psychologist. This week is going to be difficult.  
  
"I'm going to buy the tickets for our anniversary trip today after work," Relena informs me, behind me, after a shower, "Then I'll be back here around five, okay?"  
  
I nod and wonder what I should do with the rest of the day.  
  
"Are you feeling all right, Heero?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
It doesn't even sound convincing to me, but she lets it drift away. She swallows her worry and smiles. There's a slight pause before she kisses my cheek and leaves.  
  
"I love you," she says with conviction and passion in that pause.  
  
I don't even respond and I don't understand myself. It just must be that I'm in a bad mood. It must be because of Duo's wedding approaching and I'm not really excited about it. It's hard to be excited about anything now. There's nothing that really requires everything of me, my whole energy, all of my skills and focus. I feel myself getting useless and somehow getting old. Not that I _looked forward_ to missions, but it was something that I could _feel_ , deep in my bones and blood, twitching there. It was something vivid and loud, but slowly every day is becoming quiet and soft. It doesn't fit well, but I try to fit into it. I keep trying. One day, maybe it will...  
  
I sit back at the computer. I look over the speech again, Duo's wedding speech. It's the most important speech in his life and he trusts in me to have it perfect...  
  
After editing it, I look at the clock: eleven a.m.  
  
Still hours until Relena gets home. Still hours before I should get ready for the dinner. I don't even know where we're going. Does it matter?  
  
Yeah, bad day. It's just a bad day. A still and restless day.   
  
I think about it. I think about the movies I've hidden, the movies that I frequently think about. I imagine the objects I bought in attempts to keep this at home, to keep this in control back when we first got married.   
  
I eat instead, take my time. Try to be slow about it and while I do, I remember why I dislike being her husband.  
  
"Heero," she had said before, "Heero, you don't have to work, you've been working all of your life. Just stay home and relax. When we have children, you can stay home with them. Isn't that wonderful? I want you to rest, you've done so much..."  
  
I hate just sitting around. I hate not doing anything. She seemed so upset when I rewired the security computers and updated the cameras, re-configuring them. She wanted me to relax, to see the city, to leave my past behind. She wants me to be idle, to grow old and useless.   
  
That's when I started getting into things and movies. I was bored and frustrated. I wanted to do something, something I really wanted to do. So, disguised, I went into a shop...I paid in cash...I was curious. I thought, 'I'll probably feel too uncomfortable since I'm not gay, just curious. I can just throw it all away after I try it. I know I won't like it.'  
  
This was so early in our relationship. Relena had been away on a trip, had been gone for days. It was just me. I first watched a few videos. It was the first time I had ever seen someone else in the act of sex. That was the first time I had ever given into my own sexual whim.   
  
I watched as the men kissed each other; it looked so odd. Men are so different than women, than Relena, all harsh angles and hardness. Women are so soft and curved, like a vase. Men are like blocks, so rough against each other. And still pretty, somehow beautiful. So beautiful kissing each other, tongues pushing into each other's mouths, moaning against their lips.   
  
At that time, I was aroused, but didn't do anything. I didn't want to miss anything and honestly, I wasn't sure how I should proceed. How did other people do it? How was I supposed to masturbate? That wasn't taught in my training, thankfully. Sex in general, glossed over, as if it didn't matter...because it didn't matter then.

I patiently waited to learn, for the videos to show me. I observed their sex, I took mental notes.  
  
In the second video, it taught me. There was a man watching two others having sex and he masturbated. He stroked himself, running his hand over his chest, scratching his skin...and then that hand traveled down, past his erection, down in between his legs. The camera angle moved and his finger pushed into himself. At first, I was shocked and nervous. But I had my guide. I had my map, his hand stroking his flushing cock and finger pushing in and out...  
  
Taking a deep breath, I had reached into the brown paper bag and pulled out the lube I had bought, the first tube of lube I had ever bought. Opening the bottle, I ran it over my fingers, cold and wet and thick. I rubbed it around, got used to its texture and smell.   
  
I played the part over again, the masturbation scene. I gingerly touched myself, feeling my cock's curve and weight. I tried to imitate his speed and how tight his hand looked. Soon, I was fully erect and breathing hard, and it was _good_. It felt good, watching those men fuck each other, pushing one cock into another's ass. I was suddenly the man secretly watching them, getting off on their sex, their moans, their fulfillment. I trailed my hand down my chest and stomach. I was reluctant, but pushed myself, told myself not to be afraid of something so stupid, my own finger in my ass. I had so many other things in my life that paled that small indiscretion.   
  
With a swallow, I pushed my finger in, just the tip. I watched the peeping tom on the tv really go at it, thrusting his whole finger in and spreading his legs. It obviously felt good...  
  
A little deeper in, it was tight and awkward. I forced my finger in more, up to the first knuckle. It stretched and burned slightly, but the feeling was...weird. Really weird. Not bad or good, just different. The pressure there....just so different and it felt good to do something fresh, something I've never tried before. It took the yawn out of the day, it felt like something I could almost be proud of.   
  
Bolder, I pressed deeper and felt my finger in there, inside my body. My face felt hot and my head was dizzy. I was fingering myself. I wondered how different it would feel if someone else did it, someone else who knew what they were doing...  
  
I keep stroking myself as I moved my finger slowly in and out, I begin to imagine another man. His finger twisting in my ass, pulling out all the way and sliding in all the way to the knuckle. In and out, he knew what he was doing, he was breathing hard in my ear. He was excited, getting off on just finger-fucking me. I shivered when I thought of that word, the colloquial word. _Fuck. Fucking._ Something forbidden and harsh in it, something dark and secret. I could never say it to Relena. I couldn't say, "Relena, _fuck_ me." I just couldn't, but I could tell him, the man in my imagination, my fantasy. I could tell him that I want him to fuck me and he could add another finger, and he does. _Fucking_ me with his fingers, imagining it's his cock. _His_ _hard and wanting cock._  
  
It didn't take long at all and I came with my fingers in my ass. Semen all over my chest.  
  
It took a lot longer to finally summon the courage for the toy, to push that into me. It looked far too big, but it's not, it's perfect.  
  
Remembering this, I'm hard now. I look at the clock again. Three hours before I had to get ready...  
  
I get out a movie, I don't even look at which one, they're all hot. I get out the lube and the toy, the dildo. It's hard to think about it even, I don't think I could really ever admit to it. For some reason, it's hard for me to even say "dildo". When I was at the store, I just pointed to it, offered cash, and it was mine. I never even uttered a word.   
  
I slide in "Ass-Pounders 2" and the video starts to play. I like the man who plays 'Casey' in this, his name is Lucky Cox, it's an obvious pseudonym. But I like his chest and eyes, really dark. He can't act, but he plays the top and I can imagine it, can imagine him taking over me. Even though he really can't act, just how he moves and how he looks at the camera, he makes me want to submit. I want to be _taken_ by him.  
  
It's not very often that I think like that, but I do sometimes, I want to be guided sometimes. I know how I look, I've seen it, I've heard it. I look like I should be a top, dominating someone, and I like that, too. But I get tired of being the lead. Sometimes...I think about someone just pushing me down and giving it to me. Not asking, just pushing me down...  
  
But that's weird. That's a wrong thing to want.   
  
Casey roughly kisses the blonde-haired boy on the screen. I'm already touching myself, not my cock, just my chest and thighs. I have a few hours, so I want to make it last and make it worth it. But he's really hot. The way he looks at the camera, at me, it's like he can control me from there. Three years ago is when it was taped, but the look he gives can still make my breath hitch.  
  
I wonder if he's an asshole in real life, like his character, or if he's a really nice guy. Does he have a boyfriend, but just needed a few bucks to get by?  
  
I smear lube over the object and my fingers. Without touching my erection, I push in my fingers, two, and push them all the way. It's been a while since I've had something in me and it slightly stings, but it's good. I pleasure myself with them, knowing how to touch myself now. It's not awkward any more, just smooth and fluid.  
  
Pushing on my back and setting my feet on the edge of the chair I'm naked in, spreading my legs. It's cramped, but I figure a bit realistic. Sex hasn't always been comfortable, like in the alley with the boy. Maybe that's what makes it better.   
  
I play with myself, just teasing with the tip of the object. It's very straight-forward, not any weird colours or shapes. Just a regular one that can vibrate.  
  
My breath is struggled as I sink it deeper inside me. I can feel it and all I see is his face as he pounds into his naive little blond. I want to be naive, too. I want to be soft like that sometimes and just have someone like him show me what it means to be sexual and hard and sexy and sweaty and rough. I want him to show me that pain can be pleasure, too. Not like I was trained, that pain and sex and sweat were hurdles that I would overcome. That I wasn't a boy, just a soldier, but now that I'm not a soldier, I want someone to teach me how to _be wanted, how to be fucked._  
  
'It's just a bad day,' I repeat to myself as I create a rhythm with the toy, fucking myself, 'Today's just an off day.'  
  
By the time I come, I'm stiff and sore. I come on my neck and cheek. It quickly cools and I shiver.  
  
As the credits roll and I see the name "Lucky Cox", I stretch out. I'm buzzed in the afterglow. I sigh, relishing the air, feeling it curl on the sweat of my naked body. I already feel a little better.   
  
Then I hear the front door close. I jump up and race to the window...Relena's limo is being driven to the garage by the driver.  
  
Fuck! _Fuck!_  
  
I look at the clock in a panic. It's only three...She must have gotten home early.  
  
With my heart scraping up against my throat, I leap to the vid player and rip out the disk. I listen for her footsteps, I listen for her voice, but all I can hear is my heart pounding...  
  
I throw the disk and the object into the secret place, the back of the closet, under the wooden floor. I made it myself.   
  
Just as I'm ready to close the door, she walks in. My heart's still scratching at my skin, to leap out of my throat. I calm my quaking hands and comfort my terrified lungs. I slow my breathing as she blushes at my nudity.  
  
"Oh Heero," she exclaims with a giggle, "Are you getting ready for a shower?"  
  
After a moment, I agree, "Yeah."  
  
"You look sweaty," she smirks as she walks over to her jewelry box to put her earrings away, "Were you exercising?"  
  
"Yeah," I lie and let out of breath, and feel a little better. She doesn't know. She doesn't suspect. I'm in the clear. Everything's okay.  
  
She looks at the open closet and comments, "If you're looking for a good outfit to wear tonight, you know how I like the black silk shirt you have."  
  
I slowly nod and stiffly pull it out of the closet.  
  
"I'll join you in the shower in a moment," she tells me with a warm smile, "Today was a _good_ day."  
  
I nod and escape to the shower. I catch my reflection in the mirror and I look bad. I look like I haven't slept in weeks, and I know honestly how that looks. I look all flushed, haunted, and scared. I look scared. Then angry, as I focus on myself.  
  
I resist the urge to break it.  
  
When Relena finally joins me, I'm nearly done washing up.  
  
Her arms wrap around me from behind and she asks just above the spray of water, "Bad day?"  
  
"Yeah," I tell her honestly.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"...Okay."  
  
As were driving to the dinner, we're both quiet. We don't joke or laugh. She can tell that it's not the best time to do that. She knows to give me my space...  
  
So, it's quiet. Just the splash of puddles under the tires from a short rainfall earlier.  
  
It's a fancy restaurant, even though I'm not surprised.   
  
It's not my kind of food. I'm used to anything cheap and easy. Rations, cafeteria food, cans of soup, ramen, peanut butter sandwiches, and that's good enough. I don't care what wine the duck was simmered in. I just need food to sustain myself, which is another reason I appreciate Duo. He feels the same way, we don't need anything fancy.  
  
The title of the restaurant is in French and it seems really ostentatious, why is everything supposedly fancy French? I don't know and I'm not in the mood to ask.  
  
When we reach the table, my hopes sink deeper, my heart almost stops...  
  
That bad day, it's just gotten a hell of a lot worse.  
  
Sitting at the table is Germaine and his wife...  
  



	10. Civilians and Soldiers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo and Heero reveal more about themselves as Heero gets closer to Germaine.

I can feel my skin sizzle and ache; feels like enraged insects crawling all over it, burrowing into it, but I don’t move. I sit there and let them talk and eat. I endure.  
  
“Heero?” Relena asks gently, “How is your meal?”  
  
“Fine,” I reply and hope she lets it go. I don’t like being in this kind of mood with her, but I’m not sure what to say or how to act. I’ve never been in this situation and now understand my mistake. When he and I had…whatever it was we had, it wasn’t anonymous. It was foolish not to think that I would never run into him, never see him again. He’s in Relena’s outer social circles. **Of course**. How could I act so foolishly and forget all that?! I can't believe I was so stupid.  
  
“Relena,” Gloria says, getting familiar with knowing her by her first name, “Let’s go powder our noses.”  
  
There’s no malice or any clue that she knows anything as she smiles to Germaine and me, and Relena agrees and stands with her.  
  
“We’ll be back soon,” Relena says to me and squeezes my shoulder.  
  
“You boys behave,” Gloria jokes and comfortably takes Relena by arm to the restroom. My stomach twists seeing them go in together. I know that there’s nothing sexual going on between them and even so, I have no right to say anything, but…the thought settles clumsily in my stomach. Of course there are people that will be close to her, but she's my wife. Touches are supposed to be an intimate gesture that only I can give...

But I have no room to be so hypocritical.  
  
“What are you doing?” I ask directly, crisply, when they're gone from sight. I cut precisely and threateningly into my steak.  
  
He sips his wine carefully, but I think it’s only for aesthetic purposes, or to buy him time to think of an answer.  
  
“Your wife invited us to dinner.”  
  
“Bullshit”, I snap without meaning to and flinch at my lapse of self-discipline. ' _Settle down. Don't let him get to you. You have to play this right_ ,' I admonish myself.  
  
“It’s not”, he calmly answers, settling his glass down without a sound, “But if you’re uncomfortable, we’ll leave.”  
  
That would look bad. Relena would have too many questions: why didn't I like them? What had he said to me when they left? Things that I don't have answers for...yet.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
I think over the possibility that it really wasn’t his insistence to see me and that he’s just here on an invitation. Maybe he really is innocent. I study him closely, watching for any signs to give him away.  
  
“I’m not as flattered as to think that you would hold an interest to maintain what fleeting relationship we'd had,” he looks me in the eye and doesn’t waver, giving me the idea that he either practiced this before he came today or that he’s done this before, with other men, “However, if you were interested, I would give you my private phone number."  
  
“What are you up to?” I snap, then take a casual sip from my wine, also for aesthetic purposes.   
  
“Does that mean you’re interested?”  
  
“In you or your offer?”  
  
“Does it matter?” He wonders and it’s then that I realized that he’s done this for a while, lived like this for a long time, maybe all his life. To him, they are the same, what he does behind closed doors and what he does in the open. He doesn’t see his actions or thoughts as anything different from his true self...  
  
I don't know if I like him more or less at that thought.   
  
Looking back at the bathroom, I feel guilt sweep roughly through my bones. I reach into my pocket and find a pen.  
  
He takes it from me, slowly so I can feel the warmth of his hands, and writes it down.  
  
“Give me a call, for whatever reason," he says quietly.  
  
I’m sure he can read between the lines. If I find out anything about him I don't like, I will use it against him and if any allegations against me showed up, I'm sure they'd be dismissed.   
  
That or he would find himself suspiciously missing...  
  
With that out of the way, we continue uncomfortably eating in silence.  
  
When Relena comes back, her face looks pale.  
  
“Let’s go home, Heero. I’m tired.”  
  
Gloria looks candidly concerned, “Please look after yourself and please call me about next week.”  
  
Relena nods, weakly, and promises her. Her skin is clammy. Her eyes are dull. Panic rises in my chest, but I swallow it down, subdue it.  
  
“What’s wrong?” I ask her when we’re out the door and hate the sting of selfishness if I wonder if Gloria told Relena about her husband and me. Maybe I’ve been found out.  
  
“I just felt very dizzy and nauseous all of a sudden. She had me sit down for a little while, but I don’t feel any better...I threw up, Heero. I _neve_ r vomit.”  
  
“Do you want to go to the docto-”  
  
“I’ll be fine. I just want to rest,” she hurries to say and holds my hand as we walk to car.  
  
She doesn’t like going to the doctors if she can help it and I can understand perfectly, so I don’t make an issue of it. She’s been working very hard as of late, so it could be lack of proper rest or poor eating.  
  
“What about next week? What did she mean?”  
  
“Oh,” she genuinely smiles, “I was invited to a symphony. Apparently Germaine isn’t fond of things like that….Sound familiar?”  
  
“It’s not that I’m _not_ fond of it,” I disagree harsher than I meant to sound, “It’s just that I can’t appreciate it the way that you do.”  
  
She pauses a few seconds and I recognize my folly.  
  
I start to say, “I didn’t mean it like-”  
  
“Heero,” she interrupts with questioning eyes, “What is this?”  
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
“You’re acting,” she pauses and sighs, “It’s like you’re acting more like you used to…when you first met me. Angry. Quiet...quieter, I mean. And…unhappy. Like you were forced into that situation-”  
  
“No,” I strongly oppose, fear cooling me and adrenaline urging me, “No, it’s not like that.”  
  
“Then what is it?” she asks plainly and trustingly, without annoyance, “Heero, if you think we weren’t ready to get married-”  
  
Her words absolutely sicken me. Not only do I hear her doubt, but the projection of her own doubt.

She stops when I shake my head and hold her arm, slowly pulling her to me. Still holding onto her, not letting go. I don’t want to ever let go. As horrible as it is, I don’t want life without her. Even if I’m just using her love and faith in me, I can’t bring myself to break this off from her. I want only the best for her and I can be the best. I may not love her physically, but I can protect her. I can make her life happy and safe.  
  
So, I don’t let her go. In the parking lot, we stand there, holding onto each other, neither willing to just walk away yet…  
  
***  
  
I roll the number he gave me around in my head. It catches in the wires there and latches on. Of course I memorized it that night before burning it on the kitchen stove, wiping every piece of evidence away.  
  
When Relena is in the shower, I sigh and stretch my naked body out in bed, thinking about him.  
  
The way his mouth moved. The mouth that sucked on me.  
  
I think of his mouth - _really think_ \- how it felt, being inside it. I never kissed him...  
  
I imagine kissing him, sucking on his tongue, making him moan. I want to make him loud and panting and grunting. It feels like a challenge and I haven't felt like that in a while. It’s intoxicating.   
  
The shower-spray is so steady, as she washes her body. She likes longer showers.  
  
I touch my chest lightly, so I almost can’t feel it, I have to really concentrate to feel anything. Trailing the fingertips down across my chest and stomach.  
  
I don’t imagine him doing it because that could cheapen the effect if it actually does happen. I just think of that kiss, the kiss I want to give him. I want to kiss his cock, suck it into my wet lips, his hands so hot and needy in my hair. Kissing him everywhere…  
  
I’m hard when I finally reach my cock.   
  
I wonder what kind of kinks he has. I wonder if he has any. He’s so quiet and unassuming. I want to hear him full of noise, twisting against me, so full and heavy with desire. I want him to fold me over and fuck me. I want him to kiss behind my ear. I want his words twisting in my hair. I want to pin him down. I want to struggle against and _into_ him.  
  
I want him to _understand this_.  
  
Just understand.  
  
I want him to talk to me, openly talk to me.  
  
I want him to remember the war with me and not be happy about it, but remember it, when boys like us were strapped with explosives and given bullets like candy.   
  
_I want him to kiss me..._  
  
I want him to just understand and listen, not because he’s getting paid to or wants to change from it but just because he understands.  
  
 _Just…understands…_  
  
I come. The semen lands on my chest, scattered and I don’t even realize it until I’m done riding the orgasm.  
  
Before I clean up, I curl into a ball, feeling each muscle tighten as I breathe. I breathe deeply and painfully, stretching out muscles that I haven't used for so long. I feel so useless, and wasted. My life is being wasted on these thoughts and emotions.

I listen to the shower still running and it feels so empty and sad. And what makes it so confusing is that I don't feel sad, but I know I should and all I feel is detachment, pulling me down. What the HELL is wrong with me? Should I be concerned? Should I try to fix myself at all? Why can't I stop this?  
  
Life isn’t as clear as I thought it would be after I said “Mission Accepted” and “I do”.   
  
Is there anything I can do about it _now_? I feel so trapped. There's no way out. There's no way this can get any better. This is my life until I die. And should it be? Should I just accept this for her sake? If I do, will I resent her?  
  
But then I have nothing. Without her, I'm really nothing. I'm wiped clean. I'm barren. I’m without purpose. I need her. I'm so shallow and selfish and in need of her.  
  
Why am I getting so soft? Self-deprecation burns in corridors I’ve long shut down. How can I say such weak and dependent things? I can live without her. I can live and die without anyone. She needs _me_. I give her security and stability. I'm reliable and her sympathy case. She can feel good about herself because she loves me and I'm so fucked up, her personal pity campaign...  
  
But how did I become so bitter? How did I become this?  
  
This is not her fault...  
  
When the shower stops, I unfold and clean myself up, quickly and silently.  
  
How did I ever think that I’d fit in here?  
  
 _With her_?  
  
***  
  
"It's good to see you both back," the psychologist says and smiles stiffly, like it's a formality and nothing more.  
  
Duo nods and smiles more easily, "Yeah, I've been thinking about it - about what you said and...I don't like thinking all these things that I think up. I don't like how it just..."  
  
He gestures to his chest, like gripping something near it, and puffs out a breath of frustration.  
  
She nods and asks, "Is it hard to verbally express yourself often or is it just about this subject?"  
  
After a shrug, he hesitantly admits, "I don't like to complain. I have it good. A lot better than before."  
  
He glances at me warily, but then gives her his full attention.  
  
"Do you see this as complaining?" she asks him in her ordinary matter-of-fact tone.  
  
"Well," he draws out and gives a goofy shrug, "I mean, I know it's different-"  
  
"Really?" she counters and when he falters, she adds, "Let's think of this like a book. You're here to tell me the story, but you're the main character."  
  
He laughs and sloppily looks over to me, maybe weighing in my demeanor, I'm not sure.  
  
"Then it's not complaining," she offers, "I just need to know the story to help you figure out how it ends."  
  
I can tell it off-balances him slightly and maybe it's the whole situation or me being there, but I can tell and I can never tell with Duo. He's losing his game, he's getting indecisive and I've never seen him like that. It unsettles me.  
  
"Do you want this to be private?" she asks him directly, not even acknowledging me.  
  
He gives a shy grin before throwing his gaze at me, and then turning back to her, "No. I told him that we would do this together and-"  
  
"I don't think he'll mind. Will you, Heero?"  
  
Before I can reply and assure him that, yes, it's okay and I don't mind, he says to me very adamantly, "No. I want you here."  
  
And that's it, I can't leave. I nod and he sighs and asks the psychologist, "Where do I start?"  
  
"How about…What's your first memory?"  
  
"Oh boy, that's rough," he breathes out before licking his lips, "I guess...Being held by someone, like picking me up."  
  
She nods slowly and I think to myself, 'That's a good memory to have, especially being your first.' I feel a little envious.  
  
"Do you know who it was?"  
  
"Yeah, his name was Solo."  
  
She waits after a pause and nods, "Go on."  
  
He clears his throat and says, "I don't remember too much, but I had no shoes. My feet were bleeding, so he carried me."  
  
"Was that the first time you met him?"  
  
"I think so...I don't know. Maybe."  
  
"Can you remember what you were feeling then?"  
  
"Kind of scared. Really relieved. Although guarded; I thought he might hurt me."  
  
"Did he?"  
  
Immediately, he replies, "Nah...No. He was a great kid. He seemed so old then, but..."  
  
"How old do you think you were?"  
  
"I honestly don't know. Best guess: around five."

“Can you tell me what happened to him?”

He hesitates, but then, easily says, “Oh, he died. Yeah. Yep…Most of them did. You know…”

She nods, let’s the conversation dissipated for a moment. He doesn’t follow up with anything, either.   
  
"Heero," she abruptly focuses on me and I can feel his eyes follow hers, "Have you thought about why you've decided to come back?"  
  
"Not really," I decide to be truthful, but Duo's eyes flash down just a little and I can read that; he's disappointed.  
  
"Thank you for being honest. Do you think this is a waste of time?"  
  
"I've tried this before."  
  
"What went wrong?"  
  
I'm ready to respond, but I lose the words, the reason.   
  
"They never..." I can't think of what I want to say. They never worked. It never stuck. Things went back to what they were. They just didn’t understand me. And maybe I didn’t want them to.   
  
"They never cured you?" she tries to complete my sentence, then tilts her head, "Let me ask you and keep that honesty when you answer: Do you want to change?"  
  
Do I want to? God, yes.   
  
But, can I? I'm not so sure any more.  
  
"Yes," I respond and heed her advice, "But I don't think I can. People don't change, they've been in situations that shape them, seen things and have done things that they can't undo. And they may be remorseful, but it's all patterns. Like it's been engraved. You can't undo the patterns."  
  
"So, civilians, by your logic, can never become soldiers. Since they can't change...are soldiers, then, _born_? Were _you_ born as a soldier?"  
  
I think about it, do I have any memories of when I wasn't? Was I ever on the other side of the fence? I can't remember. Did I have a mother? Can I recall any feelings or impressions of a father?  
  
"I think so," I say after a few minutes. “I think I was born a soldier.”  
  
I expected that she might have gotten upset or told me I was being ridiculous, but she just nods and writes something short down.  
  
"What is your first memory?"  
  
"Being cold," I quickly respond because I knew the query was coming, "Being in the dark and knowing I had to keep quiet."  
  
"Why did you have to keep quiet?" she predictably asks.  
  
"Because if I didn't, he was going to kill me," I reply and before she can ask who, I add, "The man that trained me to be a killer. The assassin that murdered Heero Yuy."  
  
I expect her to raise her eyebrows, or ask me to repeat myself, or even call me a liar, but to my utter surprise, all she does is vaguely nod and write something else down in her notebook...  
  
***  
  
Duo doesn't talk to me when we get into his car. I want to know if something's wrong, but maybe he just wants some space. I could tell he didn't really want to divulge that kind of inform-  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" He tries to sound nonchalant, even apathetic, but his hands grip the steering wheel tightly. He starts the car aggressively.   
  
"You didn't need to know."   
  
He shakes his head, laughing coldly, "Didn't need to...That's nice, Heero. Yeah, you're right. I didn't need to know. But I thought you'd tell me, though."  
  
"Why? Because we're friends?" I ask and didn't mean it as hollow as it sounds.  
  
"You're a real piece of work, Yuy," he says and I don't know what that exactly means. Before I can ask, he turns on the radio, ending the conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good song for this chapter is American Princes', "Born to Die":
> 
> "It's alright not to try  
> And it don't mean a thing to me  
> I'm born to die  
> I've been an agent of violence  
> I've survived the sound and the silence"


	11. Roles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero finds comfort in Germaine as they talk about the wars.

It was cold and getting dark. I looked back the sun as I lingered near the door, my hands in my pockets, but still getting numb.   
  
I had called. I had dialed his number.  
  
He had picked up, asked, "Hello?"  
  
And then I had hung up, _hadn't meant to_ , but something flickered inside me and my thumb moved. I cursed myself, at my cowardice, at the desire to even call. But I was curious and he had been so open and willing...and easy. To go to him would be easy, I would have a solid alibi.  
  
I called again after a few minutes and this time he answered, "Heero."  
  
Had breathed it low and gentle, like he understood, like he knew what I was feeling. I had leaned against the wall and waiting for instructions, for him to tell me what to do, but he was quiet.  
  
Finally, I broke down and gave in, "I want to meet with you."  
  
So, here I am at his mansion, freezing, while Relena is out to the movies with Sylvia. I still haven't knocked yet. I just observe his house, an ugly brick thing that smells like fire. The rain slides down my face and numbs it. I breathe in the cool air, suck it down. I can feel my body naturally try to shiver, but I suppress it - I feel the control over it. I need to be able to control my own body.  
  
After a few minutes, the door opens and it's him. For a moment we just look at each other.   
  
I sniff. He tilts his head and sighs. This isn't as easy as I thought it would be.  
  
"For God's sake, " he breathes out, with a frown, "Get in."  
  
I sniff again from the wetness, hanging outside in the cold for longer than I had intended. I brush past him, careful not to touch him.  
  
I don't feel any more comfortable inside than I did outside. I look around nervously; I'm on edge. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck grow stiff and my skin tingles. I'm ready to fight. I ready to run.   
  
I turn to face him, but don't know what to say.  
  
He slowly makes his way to the wall across from me and leans against it, studying me.  
  
We're silent and far from each other, watching and waiting.  
  
"No one's here," he says after a few minutes, ducking his head, "And our wives are gone for the next few hours..."  
  
 _Our wives_...God, I feel so dirty. I came here to be unfaithful to Relena. I came here to have sex with her friend's husband.   
  
"Forget about it," he admonishes me, while watching carefully, but his tone is even and soft.  
  
"How?" I growl out, my voice becoming raspy and gravelly, "How can you just...do _this_?"  
  
"It's who I am," he answers just as evenly and for some reason it pisses me off. Doesn't he care at all what he's doing? He's just become like this without question...and I'm the only one struggling trying to make sense of it. Why do I have to be the one wrestle with these feelings, this guilt, all alone?  
  
I find myself moving to him, hands on his shirt, pushing him against the wall - the anger, the desperation, burning in my lungs.   
  
" ** _Why?_** " I grunt out, pushing him, strangling him with his shirt.  
  
His thumbs dig into my throat, putting more pressure as time ticks on. We see who will last, who will be right-  
  
I drop him and we both cough, he falters and falls against the wall.   
  
This isn't about right or wrong. I didn't mean this to be about who's right and who's wrong. We're both wrong. We're equal.  
  
I join him on the floor, feel the cold wall on my back. We swallow and breathe, not touching each other.  
  
"I used to be angry, too," he admits suddenly and glances over.  
  
"I don't know how to make it stop," I say bitterly.  
  
"You don't."  
  
I knew he'd say something like that.  
  
"I don't know how to be normal."  
  
"You are."  
  
"I don't know how to be...this."  
  
His hand slides over to my leg and rests there, and it feels so hot, _too hot_. Maybe I was just waiting for this.  
  
"I think you have a good idea," he whispers and I lean back, letting his hand move higher.  
  
"I don't know how to make it stop," I say again, but the words stumble, break, as his fingers trace the outline of my hardening cock.  
  
"You shouldn't try," I hear him move closer, "You can't."  
  
And I wonder if the roles were reversed with him at one point. Who touched him like this? Who told him that this was who he was? Who showed him how to not care?   
  
His thumb rubs against the head of my growing erection through the pants and I sharply inhale.  
  
I can feel his nose against the side on my face, his breath curling around my ear. The fly being unzipped...my pants pulled down, right here in the hall, in his cold and ostentatious hall, and he pulls on my cock. He quietly jerks me in the hallway, the only sounds are coming from me.   
  
I try to stretch out my legs, but my pants are painfully tight across against my legs. However, with his hand moving on me, his mouth by my face, the ache that I've felt for a while...I come quickly. It hits me in waves, my fists clench, I grunt. I feel the semen on my stomach...and his lips against my neck. Just that little, wet touch and I come harder.  
  
The next few moments are quiet as I regain my breath and composure, as I feel my cock soften. He leans against the wall again, but the wetness on my neck reminds me he was there.  
  
"I love her," is all I can think of to say.  
  
"I love her, too," he confesses, "But it's not enough."  
  
"She means the world to me," I reply and it's odd that I tell him that because I don't remember even expressing that to Relena.  
  
"Gloria saved my life," he continues and it almost feels like we're competing.  
  
So, I break the trend and ask, "Where did you meet?"  
  
"The library," he answers with a rare smile, "She was looking for the same book as I was. We nearly fought over it. So, instead, she asked me on a date and told me that we could read it together."  
  
"That's nice," I try to compliment, and it does sound nice. It sounds romantic.  
  
"You?"   
  
When people ask that, I usually say that it was school where I met her, but I want to be honest with him, maybe because he feels like someone who would listen and understand.  
  
"It was a beach..."  
  
"Vacation?"  
  
"No, it was the start of my mission...She had seen too much. She had seen my face and I knew who she was. I knew her father had influence, so...," this part is hard, I take a breath, "So, I tried to kill her and myself. I thought the mission was compromised. I thought it was already over."

He's quiet and still, just listening, eyes closed.  
  
I pause a moment before contemplating, "You know, there were so many times that I thought it was over when it wasn't. I kept thinking, ' _This is it. I don't have to fight anymore_.' I didn't think I could live without a mission, without the war."  
  
He thinks about it before he asks, "When did she enter in after that?"  
  
"I was undercover in a school...she just happened to be there. I thought if I killed her, there would be no loose ends."  
  
And this part I'm still struggling with - the other part of myself, not the human part of my being, but the soldier, "I couldn't kill her."  
  
"I still can't," I breathe out, feeling that sting of embarrassment that I felt years ago. I had been trained so well…and I managed to screw it up. Here I am, living a mockery of the life I was prepared to die for. I still can’t kill her.   
  
An awkward moment passes before he slowly and carefully rises and just says, "Come with me."  
  
I do. I follow him.  
  
***  
  
We sit in a parlor that must be very impressive during the day, but at night just looks empty and somewhat sinister. When asked, I request water and he pours two glasses. The room would be more depressing if there was an ominous clock ticking in the background, but there isn't, just the sound of the rain and wind against the windows.  
  
"Do you miss the war?" he asks after a few minutes of contemplating the question.  
  
"There are times," I reply candidly and I've said this many times before to my friends, to Relena, so it doesn't feel unnatural.  
  
But then he asks a question that no one else has, "When? When do you miss it?"  
  
I hesitate. I stop for a moment to look at him. He seems relaxed, contemplative. I try to imagine him in an OZ uniform, and I can see it. I hate it, but I can imagine it so perfectly. I can picture him interrogating me...But he's not. He's not OZ anymore. And I'm not a soldier.  
  
"When she's gone," I finally answer, "When she's gone and I'm alone."  
  
He nods distantly and says, "I miss it when I think about it, when I have the time to."  
  
It's my turn to nod and understand.  
  
"Things seemed so much easier," he offers and watches me nod again, stiffly.  
  
He sets his drink down and looks at me, like the first time we met, observes me and the little things about me that I may not even notice anymore.   
  
"Gloria doesn't know about it, but," he pauses, brings his hands together in contemplation, "I had one battle before the accident happened. It's easier for her to think that I never saw combat. It's much easier for her to think that I wasn't _really_ OZ, that I didn't do things that OZ is associated with, but...you understand. It's war. Everyone is an enemy. And now, in a time of peace..."  
  
I tilt my head, curious. I want to know who he was, what he saw, what haunts him at night. Whose blood did he spill? _How are we the same?_  
  
"It was a small town in Europe," he softly elucidates, "We were sent to find a man named-...Actually, it doesn't matter anymore, does it? We were sent to find him after discovering evidence that the target was making unregistered explosives. We took three suits for intimidation. We knew we weren't going to be well-received and the Commanding Officer thought the townspeople might be too unpredictable for us to go in without any precautions."

He licks his lips once. “It was only supposed to be one man we extracted. It was supposed to be quick, concise. _Easy_ …”  
  
"It was a bloodbath," he concluded, sharply - abruptly. His jaw tightens and he looks into his cup. I don't pry and he senses that. He meets my gaze. He doesn't say anything but slowly gets to his feet.  
  
But I want to ask. I want to see the faces of the people he killed. I want to feel the blood on my hands. I want to know. I want...so much. What did he feel at the time? I want him to talk about the things that none of my friends want to remember. They hide it, but I want to know that it happened and what it was like. _I want to remember..._  
  
With his eyes still on me, he walks toward the door, and pauses to look back at me.   
  
For the second time, I follow.  
  



	12. Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero is lent comfort by Germain and Heero makes a confession to Duo: 
> 
> "First, you strangle me," he says slowly, "Then you kiss me. Next, you almost knock me out."
> 
> Hearing him say it hurts even worse. The same old wounds reopened and dragged across the ground, snagging on new insecurities.
> 
> "I certainly bring out the worst in you, don't I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good song for this chapter: How You Gonna Keep ’Em Down On The Farm by Andrew Bird

_“Thank you for taking me out," Relena said to Gloria as they settled in their seats, "I haven't been out to the theaters in ages."_  
  
 _Gloria smiled, but it was tight, "That's the third time you've thanked me."_  
  
 _Relena stumbled a little with her reply, wasn't sure what to say to that. Was she sounding desperate? Pathetic?_  
  
 _"I guess I just don't get as much as I'd like to," she finally breathed out with a genuine smile, "Work can be demanding and the friends my age...don't...aren't close to us. I mean, they live too far away."_  
  
 _'I need to get out more', she vowed, harshly, to herself, 'It's been so long since I've had a friend my age.'_  
  
 _"I understand," Gloria said, and it actually sounded like she did, but she didn't elaborate further._  
  
 _There was silence between them and Relena found it awkward, as she usually found any silence uncomfortable. She didn't want to seem bored, or even worse, boring. She had grown used to, almost comforted, by small talk._  
  
 _"Do you and Germaine go out often?"_  
  
 _"More now than before. He was much quieter when we first were together. I'm more of the social butterfly than he is, so I still go out to galleries and symphonies, things like that, even if he doesn't come."_  
  
 _"Really?" Relena asked, feeling a small sting in her breast of either hurt or envy, "I sometimes feel a little guilty when Heero isn't with me. Where ever I'm at, if I'm without him, I think, 'I should be sharing this with Heero'. I just don't want him to miss anything."_  
  
It's a bedroom we walk into, although not large enough to be the master bedroom. The room is still dark when a dim light flashes on. He locks the door behind me. The bedroom is spacious and forest green - so much green; the heavy curtains, the sheets on the bed, the rugs on the wood floor. It smells musky, a little like outside, a little like Germaine himself. My senses grow, multiply and strengthen - I can Germaine breath against my neck. Warm hands carefully on my shoulders, sliding down, then up my chest. The sounds of the fabric so loud against the quiet, as the buttons are slipped through their holes. I can taste the smell now, the scent of wood and the skin of another man.  
  
"Are you coming?" Germaine's calm voice has power in this still room. _  
_  
 _"Some time apart is healthy, I think," Gloria replied, carefully, "Why do you feel guilty? He needs time to himself. Does he feel guilty?"_

 _"I don't think so," Relena quietly answers, "But I've never asked him. It's a silly question."_  
  
 _There's a pause before she slowly admits, "Maybe I don't want to be the only one feeling that way. I don't want to be disappointed."_  
 _  
_Pulling away, he stands near the bed taking off his clothes. Instead of trying to entice, the clothes are methodically taken off. He's slowly becoming naked for me and although it excites me, it's like...  
  
It's like when I'm nearing the ending of the book and I almost want to put it down. I don't want to get to the end yet. I don't want to know it. I don't want to turn the next page and be disappointed.  
  
 _"Is it important for him to feel like that?"_  
  
 _Relena looked up at her, a sudden fear squeezing the breath out of her, but she saw no malice in Gloria's eyes. She didn't want it to be spilled into the gossip pool. No, she wanted to look perfect. She didn't want her marriage to be the subject of ridicule. But Gloria's expression was just focused, but a little soft. Her eyes were - her eyes were sympathetic, and that's all that Relena needed right there, at that moment._  
  
 _Just someone to understand her, if just a little._  
  
"Isn't this what you came here for?" he asks and, after a pause, walks over to me. For some reason, I look to the side. I can feel his nudity...but I can't - I mean, that's ridiculous. But I had thought about this moment and now that it's here, I'm not sure if I should go on.   
  
"No," I respond, but I don't know if I mean it or not.  
  
"You don't want to do this?" he wonders, slight surprise in his tone - or maybe skepticism.  
  
"No, that's not...it."  
  
"That's not all," he corrects me and, ashamed, I nod. I didn't mean for my actions to be read so clearly. I didn't mean to slip and have my intentions so open.  
  
"It's normal. You're normal," he assures me.  
  
But it's not what I want to hear. I want him to doubt himself, too. I want him to not know what to do and be just as confused as I am. I want him as tortured as myself and I realize this now as his hands are unbuttoning my pants. But this isn't all that I want. Being isolated in these emotions for so long, I'm nervous to say it. I'm nervous to even touch him. This is the most intimate I've ever become with someone.  
  
"I just want you to understand," I eventually confess when my shirt is slipped off and I've just stepped out of my pants, my lips on his neck, my hands hesitantly sliding down his back.  
  
 _"No, I mean. It shouldn't be. I just get afraid that the more I'm not there..."_  
  
 _She takes in a long, painful breath, and starts over, "He's been so independent his whole life. He's been so alone. I just want to give him everything. There are so many times I wonder if it's the first time he's ever done it. Little things, like eating cotton candy, or riding a Ferris wheel. I want to be there, all the time. I want to be there when he experiences it. I want to share it and there are just so many things...But then I hesitate because I know..."_  
  
 _She hadn't meant the night out to end up like this. She hadn't meant to cry. She wanted to keep it all in, for as long as she could._  
  
 _"I know that he would rather be alone."_  
  
 _"Relena," Gloria whispered, reaching out and gently taking her hand, "If that was the case, why did he choose to spend the rest of his life with you?"_  
  
I feel his teeth dig into my shoulder. His arousal is rubbing against mine. My blood is pounding in my ears. My chest feels like it's cracking as he holds me tight, roughly against him.   
  
"Do you want it rough?" he asks as he pushes his naked, warm body against mine, moving us carefully to the bed without losing contact.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"Do you want me to suck you off again?"  
  
Oh god, how I wanted...  
  
But I just reach out and touch his neck. It's so hard to tell him- tell anyone -what I want.   
  
"What do you want?" I ask instead of answer. It's so much easier to take care of someone's desires.  
  
 _"I know, it's silly," Relena replied, but the smile didn't fit on her lips and the laugh never bubbled up, "I know I'm making a bigger deal out of this than I should be.’Oh poor me', right?"_  
  
 _Gloria's gripped tightened and Relena hoped she wouldn't let go._  
  
 _"I know how difficult it can be. We're not mind readers and sometimes they just close up, without any warning. Something secret, hidden to our eyes, triggered something inside them and suddenly they're not quite the person they usually are. Right? It gets very frustrating."_  
  
 _"I just want to make him happy," Relena murmured._  
  
 _"I think," Gloria started, and then paused, before gingerly stating, "that you're pushing yourself too hard. You can't be everything to him. You can't possibly do everything. You can't be his wife, teacher...and mother."_  
  
 _Relena grimaced at the last comparison, "I know, but I can't stop myself. When I see him hurting, I just want to erase it."_  
  
 _"You can't protect him from his past. You can't make him always feel better. There are just some comforts that you can't provide."_  
  
"You've never taken your time, have you?" he asks, hand on my thigh - God, it's so warm.  
  
I think back on the handful of times I've sought out sex - always rough, fast, hard. Shaking my head, my heart rattles in excitement at the brief thought of Germaine taking me slowly, over and over again.  
  
"Then maybe we should try," he murmurs, fingers at the base of my cock. He waits for me to nod before he begins to stroke and I start to become harder.   
  
_"You're right," Relena whispers, hastily._  
  
 _Gloria gave a little squeeze before adding, "I'm not telling you how to make your relationship work. I'm really not trying to butt in. Honest. It's just I see you and you're such a fantastic person...I just think you should spend some free time to yourself. Recuperate, relax. You deserve it."_  
  
 _"You're right," Relena replied, leaning back, and giving the soft hand a squeeze back._  
  
 _"You can't always agree with what everyone says,” Gloria joked and laughed a little, "I've heard too much of your reputation to believe it."_  
  
 _"No, I only concede when I know that I'm wrong," she said with a growing smile, "Which isn't too often."_  
  
 _The mood was lighter. Relena tried to slip into it, but found it difficult. She hadn't meant to do this to their evening. She chided herself for being a poor companion. She would have to make it up to Gloria._  
  
 _"We should do this again," Gloria suggested suddenly, surprising Relena._  
  
 _"I would like that."_  
  
God, how I want to kiss that mouth. The things I want to do with that mouth! I lean in as my hand finds his erection, but he leans back, exposing his throat and I kiss that instead, can feel him swallow against my lips. His pace on my cock is slow, much slower than I've ever done, much slower than anyone else has given me. Part of me just wants to push it and fumble into the hard, hasty speed I'm used to. But it's somehow comforting, the way he takes his time, his thumb rubbing the head...  
  
My teeth bite where his neck and shoulder meet and it's dizzying. His other hand rests on my head, not pushing or pulling, just there, holding me there. My hand stroking his cock, feeling it get harder, and I can tell he's getting closer. I pull back because I don't want him to come yet. His eyes are sharp on me and cheeks flushed with arousal. His look is hungry and so incredibly hot - this is just what I wanted. I wanted to break that cool, collected demeanor of his. I wanted him just as broken by lust as I am. I want him to want me as much as I've wanted him.  
  
"Would you like to fuck me?" he asks, “Or would you rather be fucked?”

What a question...

  
*** 

I feel awkward when we're done, spent, and side-by-side in bed. I don't know what I should do as I pant for breath. Thanking him feels so trite. Asking him how it was seems too self-conscious. Cuddling would be odd, seeing as I've only done that with Relena. Taking a shower would seem too domestic and I'm just a guest in his home.  
  
So I just catch my breath, listening to him breathing.   
  
"There's a trash can in there," he sighs out, pointing to a closed door.   
  
I get out of bed and the floor is cold under my bare feet, waking me up, energizing me. I open the door and find a bathroom. I wrap the limp condom in some toilet paper before disposing it and washing my hands.  
  
"You can a shower if you want," he calls out from the other room and I'm relieved and gracious.   
  
I turn on the shower and it's so hot, almost uncomfortable, but I relax in it, thinking over what just happened and what I'd like to happen in the near future. I think about dinner, maybe Relena and I can get something to eat or go out for a dessert. I just don't feel like going home right away.   
  
My thoughts drift to Germaine in the other room, finally being inside him, slowly fucking him - as slow as I've ever done. And the freedom to take my time and enjoy it was amazing. For once, I don't feel as guilty as I usually am. I feel relaxed and calm. I'm not nervous to walk back into the room. I don't want to run out of here without even saying goodbye. I wonder what we'll do now, though. I mean in the immediate future, until the girls get back, and after that. Are we going to meet again? Does he want to make this a regular thing between us?  
  
When I get back into the room, he's dressed and has two cups of coffee. I take it and drink it with a nod of thanks.  
  
"Let's go back to the parlor," he says, but it's more like a suggestion.  
  
I nod and we walk in silence. The sounds of rain are louder in the hall we pass and I hope that Relena brought an umbrella. I hope they're not driving in the downpour right now.  
  
When we sit in the parlor, listening to the rain, there's more silence between us. Usually my sexual companions do the talking right now, so I'm inexperienced as to what to bring up. Instead I ask, "Will we be doing this again?"  
  
He leans back further in his chair and considers it, "What are your feelings?"  
  
I don't know what he's asking about. What are my feelings for our new relationship or my feelings for him? I still don't want to give too much away. I don't want to want something in vain.  
  
"I don't know."  
  
His expression hardens and he stares at me. "Why do you make things harder than they should be?"  
  
"I'm not trying to," I say in my defense because I'm not.  
  
"You never just come and say what you mean," he blames.  
  
"It's...This is awkward for me. I don't like it."  
  
"What don't you like?"  
  
"The hiding around. The weirdness. Wanting it," I admit, but it hurts to say. Shame warm in my stomach, mixing uncomfortably with the coffee.   
  
He watches me, something in his eyes that I don't like, and I put down my cup on the table near me. I don't think I'm the only one making this difficult...I start thinking about the pros and cons of having this kind of relationship with him. Unlike the random encounters I've had, there seems to be some kind of strings attached. It's only about sex and there are pros, but isn't this supposed to be more impersonal and loose. Hardly any rules? No judgments made? No awkward silences? Why do we keep hitting all of them, then? Why does he make this so much more painful than I imagined it would be?  
  
"It's up to do what you would like," he says, holding his cup up by his mouth, but not drinking, "But your guilt isn't endearing you to me."  
  
Anger snaps in my chest, a physical movement in my chest, and I'm up on my feet before I realize it. My fist is raised and with just one swing...  
  
He flinches slightly, his coffee cup shatters on the ground and the sound of breaking reminds me of where I am and what I'm about to do. I step back, and that horrible feeling of helplessness sinks into my stomach. 

My hands are shaking with the energy to fight and I clench and unclench them. The anger is rotting into guilt, more guilt, over and over again, covering me. I can barely breathe. I can't keep it all in, all of this anger and guilt.

I look at him, looking at me, myself in the reflection of the picture behind him. God, I look so violent and horrible. This is why I have one-night stands; I can't keep myself together for long.  
  
I don't know what to do...  
  
I don't know how to make myself better again.  
  
"First, you strangle me," he says slowly, "Then you kiss me. Next, you almost knock me out."  
  
Hearing him say it hurts even worse. The same old wounds reopened and dragged across the ground, snagging on new insecurities.  
  
"I certainly bring out the worst in you, don't I?"  
  
"I don't know how to..." I start and my throat stutters. I just want him to say that he knows, that he understands, that he's been there and it gets better. Somehow the world rights itself...  
  
"How to what?" he asks, seriously. He's not mocking me, not afraid, wants to know. Wants me to say it and I want to split myself open for him. I want it all to come out and be done with it.  
  
"How to fix myself," I confess and it hurts. I should be able to adapt and grow and move forward like everyone else in my life. But here I am, still full of anger and violence and monstrosity.  
  
Carefully, he gets up and moves the short distance to me, leaning into me. I think he wants to kiss, but instead just stares into my eyes, right into them in an unnerving way. I lick my lips and have this urge to move back, move away from him, but he suddenly holds my arm tightly, just above the elbow.   
  
"Heero," he breathes my name and it awkwardly arouses me, "Who said that you're broken?"  
  
It turns my mind upside down. I don't know what to say. There are so many instances and things, I mean, my god, just this night I nearly killed him. I had my hands around his throat. And this, all this, this isn't right! And it's so foolish to think that I am.  
  
I'm about to say it, say the whole thing, but we hear the front door open and the laughter of the girls. I freeze, horrified. I had forgotten all about Relena. I had forgotten about my wife for that brief moment of weakness.   
  
"We'll return to this later," he says meaningfully before moving away from me.  
  
"Heero?" I hear Relena call out from their talking and I'm still frozen, my heart pounding, my lips not moving. He and I could have been discovered, as close as we were.   
  
"I'm sure they're in the parlor," Gloria says and a moment later the door opens, "See, just as I said."  
  
Relena smiles and wraps her arms around me, "Hello, Heero. Sorry we're later than expected. The weather is awful! Do you want to wait it out?"  
  
"No," I finally say, turning to her, "No, let's go."  
  
When we get into the car, she squeezes my hand and says, "I won't ask what you two talked about...but are you ok?"  
  
"Yes," I reply, looking out the window of the car and the rain streaking past.  
  
She doesn't push the issue, knows I'm lying in some way, but just squeezes my hand again and then lets go.  
  
We go home in silence.  
  
***  
  
"I'm becoming more violent," I confess to the therapist. I don't call her by her name, as she suggested, instead (in my mind) she is the 'Therapist' whereas I am 'The Customer' since I'm paying for her services. She is a tool to fix myself, like I'm a broken system; she is there to diagnose the problem. Like a programmer finding out what’s wrong in the software.   
  
Duo leans back, but doesn't say anything.  
  
"How?" she asks, "Give an example."  
  
I've practiced this conversation and feel prepared, "I was talking to a friend and didn't agree with what he said. My first instinct was a violent one."  
  
"What specifically was the instinct?"  
  
"To hit him."  
  
"Did he say something about your wife?"  
  
I look up at her and she only looks curious. _What kind of question is that?_ I didn't prepare myself for that. I shake my head.  
  
"Something about your pride? Your friends? Your choices? Your body?"  
  
"I guess my pride," I reply. I think back on his words 'your guilt isn't endearing you to me'. I wasn't trying to be endearing, but the way he had said it...like I was a burden. Like he didn't understand the same feelings, and I was foolish.   
  
"That's a normal reaction. Not a helpful one, but a normal one," she looks at Duo, "Have you ever wanted to hit a man for damaging your pride?"  
  
He grins and points to me, "Yeah, that guy over there."  
  
"Normal," she says again, and I can't help but feel just a little bit better.  
  
***  
  
"Hey," Duo says while we're walking to his car, "About back there..."  
  
He gestures to the office and I nod, understanding.  
  
"I was kind of joking about you and my pride."  
  
I nod.  
  
"And kind of not, actually," he says quickly.  
  
I slowly nod. I glance over at him, and, in turn, he's watching my reaction.  
  
"Don't get me wrong, you're…you’re probably my best friend, I mean, you’re going to be my best man and all. But sometimes, I don't know," he trails off, shrugging, but he does know and is just having a hard time saying it, "Sometimes I feel like you're this superman, while I'm just...Duo. You know? Maybe it's me, but you sometimes give off this vibe that I'm not on the same level.”

He loosely shrugs. "Hell, I know that's true to a point. I wasn't trained the same way you were or what I imagine you were. But I do my share pretty well. Maybe it's all old news, left over from the war, but I never got the feeling..."  
  
He stops walking suddenly and I do, too. With each word, I'm starting to feel worse. I appreciated him as much as I could in the war. I trusted him as much as I could. I liked him as much as I could. But unfortunately, I guess that wasn't enough for him. And I know that it's not being selfish of him. He does deserve more respect than I showed.   
  
"I never got the feeling that I was your equal. I was the guy that you punched out and stole shit from, if I remember correctly."  
  
He doesn't laugh, although I know it's hard for him not to. He wants to joke, but just can't right now.  
  
"We were never level. I was the side-kick. I guess it doesn't matter now, that life's life and we're all living it. But sometimes, I want to know. How far am I from being an equal? Where exactly do I stand with you?”  
  
And the adrenaline is pumping, and the moment feels so raw and heartfelt. His eyes are so intent and he's waiting for me to say how I feel about him. He wants to know and there’s a cautious desperation in his eyes, indicating that this is an important moment between us. I have to say the right thing. He’s waiting for me to say the right thing…

And in this moment, I lose myself and the fear, everything feels like it did in the war – just pure and clear and focused. I am just as desperate, foolishly so. My mouth opens, and my heart is in my throat. Everything opens up.

“I love you,” I say. Point-blank. 

“What?” he asks, his face tightening into surprise.

I don’t dare to repeat it. The moment lingers horrifyingly. I wish I could erase the last twenty seconds, last two years of my life. I remember falling, like in slow motion, when I self-detonated. In those moments, I was calm for the first moment of my life. I regretted nothing. I wish I had died then, when life was so simple. I wish I could erase everything after that.

After a minute, he looks away, but I can see his eyes are full of tears. He wipes his face quickly before swallowing hard. I didn’t mean to make him upset.

“Wow,” he says, “I can’t believe you just-…I guess I asked for it, huh?”

He doesn’t meet my gaze, though.

“I have a hard time with this,” he pauses, a sharp intake of air, “I sometimes have a hard time even with Hilde. It’s tough, you know? I wake up sometimes thinking everyone isn’t there. Hilde always said that I have a really warm heart…but it’s hard to connect things.

“God, you probably think I’m a crazy person, going on like this…”

He finally looks at me and I don’t know how to feel except nervous. I don’t know what he’s getting at. His eyes are still wet.

“I haven’t had a lot of love growing up. I haven’t had many people to love. Or, you know, love _me_. And the ones that did…”

I nod, but still lost. He moves forward and awkwardly hugs me, my heart is pounding, and I, even more awkwardly, return his embrace.

“I love you, too, Heero,” he whispers and my breath catches in my throat, “God, I’m such a stubborn idiot sometimes. I don’t know what I’d do without you…Go crazy probably.”

He pulls back, laughing, and wipes his nose on his sleeve, “You keep my life centered, you know? I know you’ve got my back. I know. I’m sorry that I pulled out such a shitty thing like that. Maybe just missile envy, you always had bigger arsenals than me.”

He laughs again. I feel warm all over when he does, even pulling out a little smile of my own as I commit to memory this day when Duo Maxwell said he loved me.


	13. Reaching Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero tries hard to connect with the people in his life; however, in doing so, he learns something about Relena's loss and Duo's past, and struggles with the answers he finds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good song for this chapter: If You Think It's Love by King Princess

“How was your appointment?” Relena asks when I get home and my body is still humming from my own little breakthrough with Duo.

She’s on the computer and I lean over behind her, kissing her neck.

“Mmmm,” she smiles, “That well?”

“I love you,” I say for the second time today and mean them both with as much intensity.

“I love you, too, but this schedule can’t wait.”

“It can,” I tell her and shut the laptop.

“Heero! What has gotten into you?” she tries to look angry, but is smiling.

I kiss her and immediately she’s kissing me back, her hands already undoing the buttons of my shirt.

“Someone’s eager,” I point out.

“Maybe so,” she replies mischievously, “Someone’s kept me waiting.”

I kiss her again without replying and she deepens the kiss, I’m surprised to find her tongue sliding along my teeth, rubbing against my own tongue.

Her fingers slip inside my shirt and they’re so soft and thin…

Music is suddenly playing, getting louder with each note. Sighing, she breaks our kiss and answers her phone, with an annoyed, “Yes?”

I smirk as her flushed face pouts as she listens, “Yes, I see. No, I don’t understand why…Have you tried calling Dempsey?.....Yes, ok…”

Taking her fingers, I decide to be playful and slowly take her finger, putting it to my lips, and slowly slip it into my mouth. Her eyes grow wide while her other hand clutches the phone. Her finger twitches in my mouth as I suck it, my tongue trailing up and down. Her cheeks flush and she says shakily into the phone, “Yes, I…I believe so.”

Pulling her finger out of my mouth, I go back for a second round, adding another finger, watching her every change – eyes glossy, mouth opening slightly, breathing differently; she’s aroused. I slip my tongue between her fingers, sliding up to brush over her fingertips. I open my mouth and lap at her fingertips and this pulls out a small gasp from her, “No, no, I’m fine. I really have to go. Yes, I’ll be waiting. Yes? In twenty minutes? Ok. I-I’ll see you then.”

I smirk into her fingers and kiss them wetly, sucking so slightly.

“Yes…Yes! Goodbye!” she hangs up hastily and shivers, sighing.

“Now that I have your attention,” I tease her.

“You made me just hang up on Senator Charlington,” she replies, exasperated, “While he’s in a crisis!”

“Hmmm,” is all I say, my lips vibrating against her skin.

“I have to leave in about twenty,” she tells me, “They’re picking me up.”

“Plenty of time,” I reply, still feeling on top of the world, and it’s been years since I’ve felt like that and that was only literally when I was on top of the world.

“Time for what?” she laughs.

In reply, I suck her ring finger into my mouth and enjoy her gasp of pleasure.

“Heero?” she lazily asks, her pretty eyes half-closing.

“Mmm-hmm,” I respond sucking harder.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

I pause. Suddenly ‘on top of the world’ is now falling down into it. I look at her, study her questioning eyes almost hidden by her eyelashes. I take her finger out of my mouth. What is she implying? What kind of question is that? What the hell? I control my breathing, slow and even, but I feel sweat start to form on my forehead.

“What do you mean?” I dare to ask her.

We’re both motionless. Panic is starting to gather and cloud my stomach. What did she see? Was it Gloria, did she find out and tell Relena?

“You just seem…I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head, “Never mind. I like it. Don’t worry I said anything.”

I drop her hand and feel a rare flare of anger toward her.

“What do you mean?” I repeat myself.

“Forget I said anything,” she says, and her wet fingers find my hand and out of instinct, out of frustration, I pull back. Worry is instant on her face.

“What are you saying?” I ask her, one more time. Just one more time.

“I’m sorry,” she gushes, sitting up, “I didn’t mean anything.”

Then why ask it if she didn’t have doubts?

“Heero…”

I shake my head and walk out of the room. I hear her call out to me, but I’m getting angrier. But what am I angry at? It can’t be her. It has to be more. It has to be me.

“Heero! Please!” She’s calling out to me and I keep walking, walking out the door, shutting it carefully behind me. Just walking. Only after a few blocks I realize that it’s cold, but keep going. I don’t know where I’m going, but I just keep walking hoping that the next step I’ll know and get it all figured out.

But I know to be more realistic than that.

Just when I think I get things figured out a little, something comes up unexpectedly and I’m thrown back into it.

I lean against a light pole, stopped at a light. I was contented when we first were married. I had curiosities, sure, but it wasn’t this bad. I found a balance. Was it the novelty of marriage that kept me satisfied? Was it that I saw more of Relena? Or is this need increasing more? Can it be my body just becoming more used to whatever this is? I don’t know.

Dr. J wasn’t the best teacher in sex education. I was given a book to read and no questions were asked. Sexual deviancies were contained to one paragraph in a 200-page book. I learned about ovulation, ejaculation, how breasts work, how arousal works, but not _why_ it works. Why is one man aroused by the sight of another man, while another man is aroused by a woman?

And why is what I feel so extreme? So deviant? Who is to draw the line of acceptable and not acceptable? Why I am in the minority, mentioned with people who aroused by feces, animals, children, etc. I am in the same category, the same paragraph in a 200-page book, as they are.

And that makes me feel very sick and very lonely.

My feet take me to a phone booth. I already know who I’m going to call.

The phone rings three times and I begin to accept that he won’t pick up when I need him to the most. This is what happens when you rely on people, for anything, even if just picking up the phone. When I realize he’s not going to answer my call, I discover how desperately I really wanted him to. It shocks and shames me. I didn’t think that he was that important to me. Even if in just a superficial way.

“Hello?”

He picked up.

“Hello,” I reply, reluctantly.

“Heero?”

“Yes.”

“It’s bad reception.”

“A pay phone.”

“I see.”

I struggle with what I called him about.

“Did she find out?” he assumes.

“I don’t think so, but she implied certain things. I don’t know what she meant, though. She wouldn’t talk about it.”

“You had better be careful all the same. A grain of suspicion goes a long way.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him finally.

“For what?” He asks, but he has some ideas, I’m sure.

“Acting the way I have been. It’s difficult.”

“I know,” he says, and out from the static he says, “I understand.”

I memorize those words, his tone of voice, the moment that I really needed.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Either tell her or don’t.”

“I love her,” I tell him and it hurts because it’s so true and I don’t want anything to hurt her, especially me.

“She loves you, too, but you’re lying to her.”

“I’m careful.”

“You think everything is fool-proof? You think you can’t make mistakes?”

I sigh, but I needed this.

“It’s getting worse.”

“What is?”

“Wanting it. Getting it.”

“Worse or are you just getting more comfortable with it?”

I hesitate, “Is it…” I want to say, ‘ _Is it terrible to want_?’ But I don’t ask.

“How do you deal with Gloria?” I ask instead.

“I love her, too, but sometimes she can’t provide what I want. We’ve discussed it.”

My mind reels, “You _what_? She knows?”

“To an extent, yes. But whom I’m meeting with or when, she doesn’t know. She would rather not. I’m very discreet for her sake.”

“But,” I say and the whole thing is insane, doesn’t make any sense, “But don’t you love her?”

“Very much,” he says tenderly and it rubs my chest raw, “And that’s why it was discussed. She understands. If she didn’t, I would stop.”

“You can just…stop?”

“I suppose so. I’m not sure. We didn’t need to discuss it.”

“Then,” I swallow hard, “why can’t I?”

“Are you happy with Relena?”

“Yes,” I answer automatically.

“No, Heero,” he calmly reprimands me, “I mean it. Actually think about it. Think about everything you want out of life. What kinds of feelings do you feel now and what kind of feelings do you want to have? If you’re feeling ‘restless’, but you want to feel ‘relaxed’, that’s a point of ‘no’. Measure everything.”

I feel sick to my stomach because I don’t want to know the outcome. I want to be happy with her. I want Relena to be enough. I want her to be happy.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s because you were never given the choice.”

“Yeah,” I tell him and I’m about to hang up because this seems pointless.

“Think about it. How happy will she be when she realizes that you’re not happy?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I know.”

There’s silence and I can almost hear him breathing in the static.

“When I first got out of the army, I drank a lot,” he says quietly and slowly as if carefully laying out the words before using them, “I cut off all my friends before the war because they just didn’t understand what it felt like. They didn’t know how it felt to be on edge every moment of every day, knowing that any second you could be killed or kill someone else. Their problems seemed so trivial. It was very challenging becoming a civilian again. In my heart, though, I’m still wearing my uniform, still carrying my gun. Some feelings don’t just disappear when someone says that it’s all over.

“You’re not the only one, Heero. I’m not angry. I suppose I just have a hard time connecting with you on that aspect because I’m not hiding anything. I’ve learned not to hide anything. This is who I am, I accept that, and fortunately I’ve found other people who accept that, too.”

I lean my head against the phone and just listen to his words filling my head, circulating through my body and heating my veins.

“I don’t know what you want to do and it doesn’t matter how many times you say it, I won’t know how to help you. That’s your life, your lot. But just know that life for an ex-soldier can be successful and fulfilling. I just don’t know what you have to do to get there, you have to figure that out. So, think about what you want and see if that’s what you have. I’m not saying that you don’t already have it, maybe you do and you don’t even realize it. Just think about it.”

“I will,” I promise.

“Spend some time with friends. They might help you figure it out.”

“I will.”

“If you want, make it mission-based.”

“I don’t need it anymore.”

“Good.”

“Thank you…”

“Yes, Heero.”

We hung up.

***

“I’m sorry,” she said later that night, as soon as she came in.

“No, it’s not your fault,” I said, hugging her clumsily, I never know how to initiate moments like this.

“I didn’t mean anything,” she tells me, almost in tears.

“It’s okay. I know.”

“I guess,” she struggles with the weight of her words, “I just don’t know about you. I mean, your past. Sometimes you pull out some kind of trick and I think, ‘he must have been trained in that’ or ‘he’s done this before’. And then I get thinking and-...It shouldn’t matter.”

I kiss her forehead and wish we could just get past things like this. It’s becoming tiresome for me.

I immediately feel guilty for thinking that.

***

“Is that you, Heero? Oh my! What a great surprise!” Quatre’s face exploded in happiness.

“Hello.”

“How is Duo’s wedding planning coming along? I haven’t even received an invitation yet. Knowing Duo, it would come the day after.”

“It’s fine. He was fitted for a tux recently.”

“Is he nervous?”

I ponder it for a moment, “I suppose in some ways.”

“Well, at least he has a pro by his side.”

It takes a moment before I realize he means me.

“I think that…I don’t know,” Quatre continues, “I think I may propose, too. I know everyone is expecting it, and there’s still a little rebel in me that wants to postpone it just for that reason, but…I keep thinking, ‘She’s the one!’ I can’t believe it.”

He laughs, but I don’t. I just feel even more nervous. He senses it.

“Heero,” his voice shifts to concern, “Is everything all right? You seem…”

He lets it trail off, but I don’t pick it up. I just watch him in the video screen and his smile slowly drops, like a tent collapsing and being packed up. For a few minutes I’m trying to figure out why I really called and how to say what I want to say.

“Do you need me there?” He tries delicately.

I shake my head, looking down at my hands before finding his eyes again.

“Do you want me to listen?”

I shake my head again and with Quatre it’s hard not to be who you really are. With other people it’s easy to be closed and quiet, but something about Quatre makes you exactly what you are and what you should be. He can see it. He can reach past any blockade and feel you. I just need that feeling of warmth, that constant source of sincerity.

“It’s okay, Heero,” he quietly whispers and reaches up to touch the screen. Unconsciously I reach up to touch the cool surface of the LCD screen. It heats under my palm and I see my hand on top of his. I needed just that connection, that openness and comfort that is beyond sexuality and confusion. Just pure care without anything trailing along.

I nod. I know he’s worried and there’s nothing I can do about that; I can’t laugh it off or push it back. We sit, our hands reaching out across miles and miles, in a bond that no one else can ever give me.

Without a word, I disconnect the signal. His face fades into the black screen. My hand still resting on the screen, still growing hot.

It’s okay.

***

I sit down. Power on the laptop. _Blink. Breathe. Control._ My hands are shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Relena asks behind me. That’s right. She said hello and I didn’t reply. She smiled at me and I didn’t smile back. I sat down because I needed a seat. I needed quiet for a moment. I needed stability after the long car ride home from the psychologist’s office. Duo didn’t look at me the whole way. I didn’t look at him.

“Heero?”

I type in ‘Maxwell Church Massacre’.

Nothing.

“Heero?”

I type in ‘L2 Church Massacre’.

There are some newspaper articles. Very short articles with body counts.

I lean back.

She’s right behind me, her fingers on my shoulders. “Heero? What’s wrong?”

I put my head in my hands and it hurts. Everything. The whole world moving around me, scraping me against it.

“Did something happen?”

“I don’t know what it means to lose something,” I tell her, surprising myself at the ease of the words pushing out. It feels good, like cutting a blister and feeling the skin return to normal – the pressure lessened.

“Oh,” she replies, gingerly sitting next to me, her hand returning to my shoulder lightly.

“I lost things, but nothing that meant anything to me. _Really_ meant something.”

“That’s ok, Heero. No one expects you to…We all have burdens.”

“What was it like?” I ask her suddenly and I know it’s unfair of me to ask, “There were so many things going on in my life. I never asked you. What was it like to…lose your father?”

She’s silent, dead silent for a few seconds. Tears emerge in her eyes as I lift my head, but they don’t fall. I hate making her cry.

I’m going to apologize, but for some reason, I don’t. In my mind, I’m going to. But I don’t. Because I’m selfish and want to know.

“It was,” she pauses and takes my hand, “very unexpected. It was so sudden. I didn’t really feel like it was happening. It was like it really wasn’t happening to _me_. I kept thinking, ‘But we were just fighting the other day, it can’t end like this.’ I thought that something would happen. Like somehow it would be okay. Someone would come and save him. He would be okay. But…then I just knew. I knew he was going to die.”

She swallows and her grip tightens, “And I couldn’t do anything. I was just a silly girl. I couldn’t even save my own father. After he died, I thought to myself, ‘I can do better. In the future, that won’t ever happen to me again. I won’t be useless.’ Sometimes I still feel that way.”

“What,” I begin to ask and squeeze her hand, “What was he like?”

She roughly laughs and the tears fall at the short eruption, “He was stubborn and was busy. In his own way, he tried to make me grow up faster than the girls my age. He would say things like, ‘Oh, those girls don’t understand how the world is. Makeup and shopping are for girls and when you’re older, they don’t mean anything but frivolities and bills.’ I would get so angry. I was trapped between being a girl and being a woman, and he just didn’t seem to understand…

“But he was kind. He would read to me when I was a little girl. Just before bed, he would tuck me in and read classics to me because ‘those were the books that mattered’, that were ‘timeless’.”

She laughs again, but this one is less painful.

“He would carry around my drawings that I drew as a baby in his briefcase. I thought it was so silly…He always had a picture of me in his wallet.”

I nod and notice that I don’t even carry around a wallet. I make a note to myself to carry a wallet with her picture in it.

“It’s sad,” she breathes out, “But I would never take back any memory of him. Sometimes I miss him so much, but I never regret anything about him. I was loved and even when I was frustrated with him, I loved him so much. That’s important to have in my heart. I see myself taking some of his traits, for better or worse.”

Her other hand lifts and touches the side of my face. I hold it there.

“But that doesn’t mean anything. If you didn’t have that, then I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t love anyone that you’ve lost.”

I sigh slowly, “Duo said…a lot today. I didn’t…I wanted to make things better. I know it’s impossible, there’s nothing I can do. I just wanted to. I was angry. I don’t know what to do with it.”

She leans in and kisses me softly.

“I understand,” she says between shallow kisses, “I understand completely. I felt the same way.”

This is surprising and I pull back, “What do you mean?”

“I used to be so angry and Dr. J, at all of them, turning all of you into…into something that I felt was against who you really are. Before we were married, I would get so angry for all the things he took from you or didn’t give you. There was nothing that I could do, though. I can’t go back into time, and I know that’s for the better. If he hadn’t trained you, if none of that happened, I wouldn’t have met you. But still, I had all this resentment built up in me.”

“You never told me,” I quietly reply and it sounds as shocked as I feel.

“I didn’t want to upset you,” she admits, kissing my hand, “But I could only concentrate on now and the future. I can’t change the past, but I can help shape your future.”

I nod, leaning forward, and she’s already enthusiastically kissing me. Her hands dig into my hair. I pull her to the ground with me. She’s on top me, kissing, rubbing, feeling, crying, holding, loving – it’s all soft and wonderful. My heart tucking in her words, embedding them there. I want to hold her forever. She’s creating my future, molding it with her love.

She’s tugging down my pants and I barely have time to sit up before her lips are hungrily on mine. Her smell curls into my lungs, I keep breathing her in, all powder and lace. Kissing, more kissing, fire burning in the wetness of her body. Suddenly she’s on her knees and she’s guiding me into her. I gasp and grunt, feeling that tightness welcoming me in. She pushes my cock in and we’re gasping through the kisses, not stopping or slowing down.

It’s the first time she’s been rough and hurried. It turns me on enormously and instead of awkwardly finding my arousal, I want more. I want more of her. I want to give more of myself to her. I thrust into her, grabbing her hips and she breaks the kiss to moan and murmur, “YesHeeroyesyesyesohyes!”

I’m going to come soon, can feel it rumbling through me, thunder in the background, lightning ready to strike. I grunt and thrust as she thrusts wildly against me and it’s the best sex I’ve ever had with her and I let myself nearly lose, thin bonds of control against the heat of passion.

“I’m close,” I growl out between my clenched teeth.

“Come in me,” she whispers and –ohgod- actually bites my ear. _Ohfuckohgodohgodyes_.

I come in her hard, so hard that my muscles spasm. I choke out her name as I come, my hands falling to my side so I don’t hurt her. It feels so good, tiring, bursting, amazing, _fucking amazing_ , and incredible.

She laughs and falls into me, gasping and stroking my hair.

“That was fantastic!” She exclaims, “You were…”

She flushes, pulling back to look at me. Her face is all smiles, her lips, cheeks, and eyes.

“You were so hard,” she shyly admits.

“Did you,” I gasp out, “plan that in my future?”

Laughing again, she replies, “Oh, yes. And much more.”

I join her laughter with an easy smile.

Yes, everything is okay. This can be who I am.

***

I knock on his door and don’t have to wait long.

“Heero?” Hilde asks, “Wow, hi!”

She pulls me into a hug that I loosely return.

“Duo’s upstairs. I just made dinner, you want some?”

“No,” I hesitate, I didn’t mean to ruin his dinner, “Is he available for a short walk?”

“Sure. You know what,” she says to me opening the door wider for me to slip into, “I’ll just put dinner in the fridge and you guys can come back and we’ll all eat it. I’ve got some grocery shopping to do anyway that I wanted to do before it was too late.”

Their townhouse is small, but always smells good, like cooking food or baking cinnamon. It was usually unbearably hot in the fall and winter (like now) and felt like the inside of a snowball in spring and summer. As always, it’s cluttered with their hobbies and broken things that will one day be either fixed or forgotten. The thing that will be fixed will either be sent to us as presents or shipped to Howard to sell. I look around for anything of interest that will one day makes its way into my own home.

“Sound good?” she asks and I see there’s not much room for declining, so I nod.

“Duo!” she shouts upstairs, “Duo! Heero’s here! He’s taking you out! Get down here!”

She grins and says, “He’ll be down in a minute. You know where everything is, help yourself to anything. Our home is your home, you know.”

As she walks down the hall, I think I can see a little of why he loves her. She’s fun. She’s friendly. She’s not reserved, but polite. She’ll make a great wife for him. They’ll have beautiful children who are street-savvy, but ambitious. I can see it easily and the thought comforts me. I want them to be happy.

There’s something novel and cute thinking about the pictures they’ll send along the years, of a grinning family, for us to put on the fridge or in our study. Something permanent and warm, the closest thing to an extended family.

“Hey,” he says quietly after coming down the stairs and slipping on his shoes, “Hilde, where’s my hat?”

“Kitchen table!” She calls back.

“Thanks!” He yells back and grabs it, tugging it on. He turns to me and apprehensively says, “You ready?”

I always try to be. “Yeah.”

It’s cold out. Winter is slowly taking over autumn each day, but there’s no wind and I don’t mind it.

“Man, I hate winter,” he says, rubbing his hands together after we close the door behind us. I’m silent as we walk.

“Is this about the other day?” He wonders suddenly after we get a block away from his home.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t mean to…fall apart like that,” he admits, “Once I got into it, I just couldn’t stop. It’s like a train, you know? I keep thinking that I get past it, that I get better, but then I bring it up and…That’s why I hate talking about it.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I completely dominated last session and looked like a crying, wet mess of a-”

“It’s okay,” I interrupt him, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve been getting used to apologizing lately. I keep finding things that I’m wrong about,” I sigh, shaking my head, “I used to think I was right about a lot of things, and those things were the things that really mattered. I’m finding out that they don’t mean anything, though. Not really. I’m sorry, I should have said something then. I should have…touched you.”

He bashfully laughs, “Nah, it’s fine.”

I stop, “You wanted me to.”

He stops, too, and it seems like our relationship is built up like this. Stopping and starting. Leaving and coming back. Constantly bumping into each other.

“Yeah,” he sighs out, “Maybe I did. That’s my fault. I know you’re not good with that.”

“But I knew that you wanted me to do something. I was shocked. I shut down.”

“Did you reboot?” He jokes.

“Yeah.”

He laughs. I uncomfortably pat him on the back and he laughs harder. His face is red from the cold, but so full of life and things that make my stomach feel weird.

“I don’t know how to lose someone,” I tell him when we start walking again.

“I don’t seem to know how to keep people.”

“I can’t seem to die,” I joke and I'm astonished when he puts an arm around me and roughly replies, “I know! I’m holding you to that.”


	14. Entwined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero talks about the little girl and her dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good song for the chapter is "Blood Ice" by Alaska Reid

Trowa is calling me now, in the middle of the day, probably at Quatre’s insistence. I tap my fingers on the keys idly before finally deciding the take the call.

“Hi,” he says simply.

“Hi,” I reply.

“Long time, no see.”

“Yeah, since the wedding.”

“Yeah…How have things been?”

“Fine. You?”

He hesitates and it gives him away. Definitely Quatre.

“All right enough.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

“So,” he pauses again, “What are you up to now?”

There’s a lot of dancing between us that doesn’t suit us, really.

“Quatre called you?”

The mood lightens as he smirks. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Hmm. What did he say?”

He tilts his head, but the smirk still remains. “Just ‘maybe to check in’ with you. See how things are…”

“Things are…busy, but boring.”

“I hear that you and Duo-”

I’m a little annoyed at the talking around that they’ve seemed to be doing.

“You’ve never been one for gossip,” I cut him off.

“If it’s coming from the source, it’s not gossip,” he responds quietly, but even-toned.

“Duo?”

He nods once. It feels strange that Duo and Trowa have been keeping in touch, better touch, than I have. Of course, I keep tabs on the other pilots, but it's at a distance. I wouldn't...intrude? Call? Push anything? I wonder what else Duo talks about with Trowa. 

“Why is everyone busying them in my business?”

“General concern, I’m guessing. Plus, with war over with, what else are we going to talk about? The weather?”

I sigh and there’s a small hitching urge to end the call right here and now.

“Trowa,” I warn.

“Heero,” he counters with a careful directness that I’ve missed.

“Things are fine.”

“And when they’re not?” Trowa asks but doesn’t wait for an answer, “We didn’t win the war separately…and we won’t win our own battles on our own.”

“I’m going with Duo," I remind him. 

“Is it helping?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, “In some ways, maybe. But there’s things I didn’t know, maybe things I don’t want to know.”

“It’s difficult,” he acknowledges and speaks with familiarity.

“So, you have, too?”

“…Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

He shrugs. “Same boat, though, I guess. It dredges things I wanted to forget. But I promised Cathy.”

There’s a stillness before he adds, “But you’re not alone. I guess that’s what Quatre wanted me to say. You’re not the only one trying to deal with this.”

It’s both a burden and a relief to hear him say that. I count myself lucky, still feeling alone, but at least lucky to have someone tell me that. I never had someone tell me that before Operation Meteor. I was completely isolated. Unlike the other pilots, I was always alone.

I can vividly remember the bare room I was delegated to under Dr. J’s mentorship. I remember the countless hours of neglect and laying on the bed in that room, half on the bed, feet on the ground, feeling the subtle vibrations of the colony. I also remember the countless hours of testing, training, learning. I was the sole progeny for Operation Meteor. Or, at least, the only one to survive. I’m not sure. I'm not sure if there were others. They didn’t tell me much.

“Yeah,” I tell Trowa because I don’t know what else to say and he's waiting for me to acknowledge it.

“Even if it feels like you are.”

“Do you miss it?” I wonder.

“The wars? The fighting?” He sighs, muses a moment. “Yes. No. I don’t miss the nights. I don’t miss the constant urge to keep moving. I don’t miss watching people die. I don’t miss ignoring the pain when I’d get up every morning.”

He shrugs, “But I miss the people. I miss the purpose. I miss pushing myself. I miss…Well, I guess sometimes I miss you.”

That throws me through a loop.

“How so?”

Quietly, he says, “We were a good team.”

In that statement, I realize how much I’ve missed him, too. We _were_ a good team. He and I were compatible, could pick up where the other left off.

“Yeah.”

The silence is warmer than it was before and we let it settle comfortably between us. It says a lot of the things we want to say to each other, and we both understand that.

“I miss the purpose,” I finally confess, “I feel like I’m useless here. There’s no purpose for me. I’m just running from one thing to another, but without any meaning. I’m getting soft… _weak_.”

He ponders my complaint. “Well, the only person that can find purpose is yourself. If it’s not the right fit-”

“Relena needs me,” I knee-jerk react. “I need to be here for her.”

His gaze is steady on me and I can feel his scrutiny in every precise facet before he speaks, “Heero, does she need you, or do you need her to need you?”

I knew it was coming because I’ve asked myself it so many times before. I want to tell him what I’ve always told myself, to be quiet, to stay the course, to complete the goal, but I’m silent under Trowa’s gaze.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” he says carefully and I’ve been hearing that too much lately, “In fact, you wouldn’t probably listen. But maybe try to recognize _your_ truth from _the_ truth. You put yourself in that position for a reason. You agreed to it willingly. If you don’t understand why…maybe that’s a good place to look.”

“What about yours? Why did you choose where you are?” I ask because I want to see him falter, even if it’s for my own selfishness.

However, he doesn’t, in fact, he smiles again, that funny little sliver on his lips. “My purpose is to live simply. I’ve decided to live without taking or asking much, and give probably just the same. I’m here with Cathy because I enjoy it…for now. I enjoy the atmosphere. I enjoy the setting up and taking down. The ritual. The familiarity.”

“I see,” I state, feeling a little disappointed.

“Think about it Heero,” he tells me with finality, “Or else you’ll be receiving a visit from Quatre, I suspect.”

I nod once and shut down the call.

That opens up a series of memories that I’ve wanted to bury for a long time.

But I do think about it.

It hurts, but I think about it until I can't think of anything else...

***

It’s a rocky distance to the therapist’s office. Duo is in good spirits, chatting about the bakeries they went to, looking for the perfect cake. He talks about the Piña Colada cake that Hilde nixed, the chocolate one that gave Hilde hives, and the blue beehive hairdo of one of the shop owners. 

I didn’t even do all that for my wedding – Relena took care of it. She decided on the cake, the colors, the orchestral band, the rings. Everything. In fact, as he’s talking, I don’t remember any input I gave.

She even decided that Duo would be my best man.

He doesn’t realize or acknowledge my tense silence on the way, or even when we’re waiting for the therapist, or when we’re sitting down.

“How have things been?” The Therapist asks, shutting the door.

“Good!” He says with an easy smile. “Real good. Getting everything together for my wedding. Going to be classy, but fun. No white doves, though, Hilde said no.”

“Sounds like fun,” she says but with little intonation. “Any fears, worries?”

“Just that she’ll forget to say ‘I do’ or someone will know me and put a dramatic stop to it like in the movies,” he jokes.

“How about you, Heero?” She asks and my stomach sinks although I’ve prepared for this. I’ve prepared for the panic.

“I want to talk about the girl and her dog,” I tell her.

I only have an hour. I have to be clear and concise if I’m ever going to figure this out. I need to confront this. I need to get this behind me. I feel like this is the best place to start.

Duo pauses, surprised, next to me, but I keep staring forward, at the Therapist.

She nods, like usual, seemingly unaffected. Isn’t at all fazed by the abruptness.

“Tell me about the girl and her dog," she says evenly. 

Suddenly it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. I’m in a vacuum. But I prepared for this. I expand my lungs with the non-oxygen. I push out the non-breath. I keep moving forward, like walking through sand.

“She was young,” I start, trying to piece how to get from the beginning to the inevitable end, “It was 194. I was planting explosives in an Alliance base on a colony in the L1 colony system. I was…”

This is hard because it feels like it’s not my story to tell. It feels like it happened to someone else, someone completely different. Someone from a hundred years ago and not just a few years ago. And not to _me_. 

“I was stopping for a minute. I guess to just…I don’t know why I stopped there. I just stopped and was just lying down in the grass. And this girl…”

I pause, trying to think of words, but I can’t. I can only smell the grass, the recycled air, the faint smell of mech oil on the wind. In my stomach, I can feel the artificial gravity. There’s light in my eyes. I can sense her voice, but don’t hear it, like it’s garbled through a radio.

“What happened to the girl?” The Therapist gently prods, entering the flashback like a hot needle.

“She asked if I was lost," I push myself, feel disconnected from my voice and mouth, "And I felt lost…Just always lost. I’ve felt like that all my life… And as I was talking to her, I realized how long it had been since I had talked to anyone. Months. Probably three months. No one had talked to me for three months. They...talked around me, but not to me. And she just saw me and started talking to me. Like it was nothing.”

My stomach turns as I felt what I did then. Emptiness. Vastness. Confinement.

 _Was I lost?_ Yes. Yes, I’ve always been lost…

“It didn’t even mean anything,” I struggle through it, taking in more non-oxygen, “She was just being friendly. Just being a kid. But to me…she hadn’t demanded anything. She came and went. She didn’t ask anything from me.”

“Did many people do that? Demand things from you?” The therapist asks, again, without any note of strain or affect.

But I feel myself nod. “They were…always toying with my life. They always needed more data. Faster reflex times. They told me what to wear. What to eat. What to learn. They just needed more from me. Constantly.”

In my hands, I can still feel the soft fur of the puppy, can feel its heartbeat in my palms as it wriggles. _Mary…Her dog’s name was Mary._

“How did you feel about that?” She asks and it confuses me. I don’t know. I still don’t know how I felt about that.

I shake my head, but don’t say anything. I can hear Duo breathe to my right, see his shape in my peripheral, but I don’t turn. I don’t know how much it adds or distracts my admission.

“How about this question, how do you think you were supposed to feel about it?” She asks, re-framing the question.

“I was meant to accept it, just like I did my other missions.”

“How old do you think you were?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know how old I am now.”

She limply shrugs. “A guess?”

“Maybe…13 or 14?”

“Okay,” she nods, “And they… _these people_ …they trained you? They gave you orders?”

I’m suddenly fighting against their training; against the techniques I had been taught for espionage. I feel a flare of trepidation as she prods and questions. I have been trained in various ways of information extraction. I could hear voices in my head of ways to ignoring the questioning, to be still and quiet, even if tortured. I remember the volts of electricity as they tried to break me, as they trained me to disconnect and fade away from my own body, from the situation. Just as I am now...

I am still and quiet. I breathe. I shut down. I can see their faces from far away, like I’m in space, drifting further and further. I'm floating away from her, from them, from everyone...

Until I feel his hand on my arm. I start because I didn’t even hear Duo move closer.

“It’s okay,” he says, “No problem, buddy. You did enough.”

I’ve never been told that I’ve done enough.

Not to her, but to Duo, I confess. “I killed that girl. I killed her and her puppy. It was my mistake. I don’t know why that made me feel this. I don’t know why that broke me…But I was broken. It broke me...”

“You’re not broken, buddy,” he softly whispers, as if to a child, but I allow it, “You’re not broken.”

“But why did she…I don’t know why she was the thing to do it…To make me falter…I had killed before…Why did she make me fall apart?”

“I don’t know, but does it matter? You can feel like shit because of it. But it was an accident. It’s okay. It was a mistake. You aren’t broken from that. You’re okay.”

I sit with that. It doesn’t feel like a mistake. A mistake is forgivable, but a failure is not. A death, _an innocent death_ , is not. She was my mistake. If only I hadn’t used so many explosives. If only I had paid more attention in the physics program. If only I re-calculated the gravity, the propulsion. If only I could have been there…

“No,” I say more adamantly to him, “No, I was broken. They wanted to retrain me, but it was already too late. They either went ahead with Operation Meteor with _me_ or they didn’t at all. But I still…I wish they had retrained me. Maybe things would have been easier. I would have been better.”

Duo doesn’t know what to say, opens his mouth and shuts it, shaking his head.

“Or maybe they should have eliminated me and found someone else.”

Like they did with Trowa, or with Wu Fei. It wasn’t unprecedented. Wing could have been piloted by someone else, someone better. Someone who didn’t make such stupid mistakes.

This does cause him to speak up, in shaking fury.

“Bullshit! Do you even know what you’re saying? You’re not dispensable like some goddamn piece-”

“I am,” I tell him carefully before correcting myself, “I was.”

Before he can let loose anything else, the Therapist cuts in. “Duo, please take your seat again. Heero, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

With her sharp directness, he sits down, shaking his head.

For the first time, she sharply inhales and lets it out slowly before refocusing back on me.

“Who were these people?”

“Rebels of the Alliance. A man called Dr. J was the lead engineer. He provided most of my course material and directives.”

“Okay…Where did you meet him?”

These are simple enough questions and my chest eases a little.

“An alley, just after Odin Lowe, my guardian, was killed. I had been living off the streets for a few months after that. Dr. J asked if I wanted to pilot a gundam and I agreed. I didn’t even know what a gundam was.”

“Why did you agree to something you didn’t even know what it was?”

“I…just wanted to. I thought it was better than living on the street.”

“Did you like him?”

I pause. The question haunts me a moment before I can answer. “Did I like…No, I don’t think so. But I wanted…someone to direct me. He seemed like a good option.”

“Direct you or _take care of you_?”

“…Direct me.”

“And _you_ would take care of yourself?”

I pause again to ruminate. “I don’t think that was a priority.”

“I see,” she says, simply, “And he directed you to attack the Alliance base?”

“He or…others did. I’m not sure where the orders always came from.”

“But you always accepted them?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever disregard your orders?”

“With Rele-“ I stop, suddenly finding a perspective shift into place.

For years I had constantly wondered why her, of all people – _why couldn’t I kill her_? After her, it was a snowball of failed objectives. I remember each time thinking it was over, I was finally done, and I could easily slip into death, uncontested and obscure. But then Relena…she just wouldn’t let me.

“Re…?” The Therapist asked.

“My wife, Relena.”

“So, how do you think she’s similar to the girl? The little girl?”

I blink, feeling again a shifting, a sliding of thoughts and memories.

“What do you mean?” I ask, finding myself guarded but curious.

“Well, you began saying that this girl was a failed mission. When we talk about other failed missions, you bring up Relena. There must be a connection between the two. So, how do you think they’re similar?”

Slightly, she tilts her head as I hesitate and she continues to expand the question, “Why take on missions that care so little about your own well-being, but then disregard a direct order that has to do with someone else? What is so special about her and the girl that you would fight against your own indoctrinated nature and rebel against it? You chose to be 'broken', so why do these people 'break' the cycle you've been taught?”

It’s a full minute of rumination, of comparing them, side-by-side, in my mind. To be honest, there was something familiar when I first met Relena. Something at the edges of my mind. And now, to see them together, in one breath, I could see inner workings that I was never privy to, nor explored, before.

“I wanted to protect Relena,” I slowly admit. “I wanted to save her…”

“From what…or who?”

“From dying again,” I say, but in a catch, realize what I said, “I mean, from her dying…”

My mind starts to race as I do compare them again, find their edges blurring, find my atonement and disgust in the same joining image. Suddenly, I realize how similar they are. How similar they make me feel.

Raggedly and panicked, I ask the doctor, now having the words to form my feelings, _“Do I see them as the same?_ "

At this question, the therapist, _Janine_ , squares her jaw. Desperately, I want her to answer because she’s the professional. She’s the one with all the certificates and papers plastered all over her wall. She’s the one who’s written countless articles in peer-reviewed papers about PTSD and war fatigue.

I **need** to have her answer. Have I been deluding myself this whole time? 

“Heero,” she says slowly, “ _You_ tell _me_.”

***

After the session, Duo and I just sit in the car. He doesn’t even start it. We both look ahead.

Finally, he says, “I always knew that something was different. I knew that there was _something_ off. I just didn’t know how off it was…”

“Hm,” I murmur. I’m not sure if this has fractured our friendship. I don’t know what extent friendships usually go. I’m sure we surpassed it at some point, though.

He sighs and moves to turn on the car, but doesn’t.

“I don’t know,” he continues, “I guess I just thought…you were some army brat or something. I didn’t even think they- _the doctors_ …did that to you.”

“It was my situation. It was my choice-”

“Bullshit,” he says, but softly, “Heero, life didn’t give you a choice. You did what you needed to and they took advantage of that. I never realized...”

“Maybe we should drive home,” I warn because I’m not about to play some victim. I made my choices, just like we all did. I screwed up. The blame was mine.

“When I was younger,” he says quietly, “You know what I’d do? I would watch other kids, kids my age, turn tricks for Alliance officers for food, security. Medicine…And I had to hide so I wouldn’t be found by them. I stole from them and prayed they wouldn’t ever catch me…

“When I got to the church, I thought I was ready for anything…I thought I was hardened….But the truth is, is that we were just kids, Heero, in a world that took advantage of us and robbed us – of our security and our childhood. Our kindness."

I’m about to disagree, but he cuts me off, “The fact that we still go on _each day_ and still want to bring peace, and are willing to die for it? It says a lot more about us than our childhood mistakes, don’t you think?”

He looks very weary and much older as he faces me. “Maybe we should forgive those kids that we were for the mistakes that the adults made us do, yeah? Maybe it’s time to realize that we did the best we could to take care of ourselves and be okay with that. We're not broken. They can't break us...”

I don’t have anything to say. I never felt like a child. I felt like moldable clay, to be formed at will. And there were times I relied on that. I never had to think for myself.

“Hey, uh,” he stumbles abruptly, “I also just want to say that…in there…I was really, like, proud of you for saying all that. I’m really glad you opened up to me. I know it must have been really hard. I mean, I don't even get everything that went on in there, but you really opened up and laid it out. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one doing this - fucking up, or feeling fucked up. So…thanks.”

“But you have Hilde,” I remind him and his face grows slowly darker. He shakes his head softly. He turns on the car.

“Yeah, I have Hilde. And you have Relena, bud," he mutters. He drives on in silence. 

For some reason, I think I’ve said the wrong thing.


	15. Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Germaine realizes some secrets, Heero shares an intimate moment with him, only to have it interrupted.
> 
> Sexual content this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good song for this chapter is "Pray You Catch Me" by Beyoncé.

There began a strange courtship in the weeks after after that. Relena and I spent more time with Germaine and his wife, maybe because they lived close, were the same age range (most of the politicians were twice, sometimes three times older than Relena and I), or maybe she somehow noticed my sly interest in Germaine. Whatever the reason, I realized that they were frequently on our calendar.

Gloria and Relena seemed to get along well, and I suddenly realized that, since knowing her from high school, Relena never really had a close friend. Sycophants and well-wishers were constantly at her heels, but a single, constant friend was absent.

It was strange to acknowledge my advantage in that regard. I had Duo, Quatre, and Trowa. Wufei, I suppose, to a limited extent. These relationships that I thought would fade over time seemed to linger comfortably. I realized this after we destroyed the gundams. As we stood and watched together, I realized that they would, in some aspect, always be a part of my life.

I found that a strange comfort. Consistency and reliability with others was lacking in my history.

As it always was for Relena. In that, we had something in common.

“Oh no, I really have to show you the gardens,” Gloria tells Relena, when we're visiting their home, “It’s about a ten minute walk, but really, the roses are incredible.”

“I’ve always admired roses,” Relena sits back into the sofa in the parlor, “I remember reading once an old book about the language of flowers in Victorian times, and it was so fascinating. So romantic. The rose had particular meanings depending on the color, and how it was worn.”

“Oh!” Gloria smiled, “Let’s go! Come on, Relena.”

“Right now?” Relena laughed.

“No time like the present and if we stay too long in one spot the ghosts of the manor will find us.”

“What?” Relena laughed again.

Germaine chimed in, “It’s a game she likes to play. It’s like a hiding game.”

“It’s more than a game,” Gloria chides gently, “It’s an old superstition. Plus, I’d like to stretch my legs. Coming, dear?”

“No,” Germain smiles stiffly, “I’ll leave the roses and their language to you.”

“Are they really still in bloom? With the cold and all?” Relena asked, then turned to me, “Would you like to come?”

“No,” I murmur and feel his eyes but don’t acknowledge them. "I'll stay here, but go ahead."

“Come on, Relena. Let’s have an adventure! We’ll be back. Behave yourselves now.”

When the door shuts behind them, I finally look to Germain. He slowly moves from a desk in the corner to the chair across from me without a word.

We hear their laughter and chatter grow distant. I can feel my heartbeat growing louder as they become quieter. I start to stand, but he shakes his head.

“Now’s not the time,” he says, simply. It's been about a week since we've been alone and the absence has been felt.

“When is?” I ask.

“Tomorrow. After five. She has an engagement.”

Relena would be home…I hate lying to her…But I’ll figure it out.

I nod, but then wonder what we’re going to do now. It’s awkward, just sitting here and not fucking.

“Did you think about things? The things we've discussed?”

He’s direct and I planned in case of that.

“I’m thinking. Still thinking.”

“Good,” he answers, “You’ll need to be honest with yourself.”

“Yeah.”

Silence enters again, softly, but expectedly. Even the manor itself pauses with it's creaks and groans as we wait.

I’m the one to break it next. “I’m sorry. For the other time.”

“Which part? The choking me or the fucking me?”

I almost want to laugh because it’s so flippant. His humor is so dry, I can taste it. I kind of like it. It kind of reminds me of Trowa and I don’t know how to feel about that.

“The choking.”

“Oh…well, thankfully my hyoid bone’s intact. Maybe don’t do it again, though.”

“I held myself back,” I admit.

“Of course you did…You are a gundam pilot, after all.”

My stomach hits my feet instantly. That has never, NEVER been publicly disclosed.

“ _What did you say_?” I ask, tasting that panic, that bile, that urge rising up my throat.

“Heero,” he sighs, as calm as the room and the vastness around us, “Before you can threaten me again. Before you can strangle me again. Before you use those instincts that have kept you alive for so long…Maybe realize that if I have this knowledge and I haven’t done anything with it, maybe there’s nothing _to be_ done.”

“How?”

He scoffs and then carefully smiles. “How do I know? I put two and two together. That’s all.”

“What do you-”

He cuts me off, “Relena Darlian is in the same vicinity of Gundam 01 twice, in differing schools across the continents in AC195. Relena Peacecraft is seen in the same vicinity of the Gundam in the Sanc kingdom and in space.

“Right after the Eve Wars, she gets married quickly to an unknown person that is not from any kind of political or royal ancestry. Seemingly just…fell out of the sky, as it were. Someone who’s well-versed in military and security…and mobile suits. Bearing the same name as the colony’s prophet of peace.”

I glance down at my folded hands, somehow shamed by this. He’s right. My cover is no cover at all. Even the sordid backstory for newspapers was thin at best.

“So,” I finally ask, “Why?”

“I’m not saying this to coerce or intimidate, as if I could. I come from a well-off, but politically frayed family name. I have nothing but a trust-fund and meager stipend for my services rendered. I have a wife, whom you’re acquainted with, but no children. No legacy. No heirs. I have very little to coerce or intimidate with.”

“So, what’s your angle?”

His eyebrows flare slightly, “Heero, what’s _your_ angle?”

“What?”

“You’ve achieved what you were set out to do. There’s peace between the colonies. You’re married to the most powerful and respected women on the planet. You’re comfortably off. So, why here? Why me?”

He actually looks lost, confused. His placid affect beginning to ripple. “Why did you hesitate in killing me? My god, with your political and military clout, I could have gone missing and no one would ever be able to find me. I’ve been trying to understand this, over and over again. Every time we meet – why here? Why me? I was _your enemy_. So, what are you looking for with me? Information? Humiliation?”

I blurt out easily, “Because I thought you could understand me.”

His emotions deflate slightly before he takes a very slow and steady sigh. He leans back fully into the chair and looks to the side. Outside, we can hear the gentle conversation of Gloria and Relena moving closer, at the edges of the silence.

“Okay,” he breathes out, “Okay. I think I get it. Yes. Meet me tomorrow after five. I will provide comfort to you. As aging soldiers without a war, as desperate men without much cause…I will provide you comfort.”

I don’t really fully know what he means, or the extent.

“You can’t ever tell anyone about me,” I softly warn him.

“Oh, I know,” he ruefully muses. “I’ve heard that those who’ve seen a gundam or its pilot never live long after…”

***

I don’t hesitate this time as I knock on his door with familiarity now. It’s 5:15 and I’m here with a slight, little sliver of doubt, but it’s abated for the time being.

Germaine opens the door, allows me in, and the cold, hollow scent of the hall is comfortably familiar. There are some older paintings hanging, but faded by years of emptiness and neglect. Our shuffling echoes off the marble floor. Faded beauty, like ours.

He leads me deeper into the home, to a spare wing where there’s an extra room and privacy. I’ve only been here once before. It’s pleasant enough, but feels more like an expensive hotel suite than connected to the house. Still, better than the hotels I used to frequent.

As I slide off my jacket, I ask, “Am I the only one? Or do you do this with others?”

It’s something I've wanted to know for a while, but wouldn’t ask until now, now that there’s a familiarity blending into a routine.

“It depends. Have I been with other men beside you? Yes. During the time I’ve known you? Yes,” he plainly answers, unbuttoning his dress shirt, “But…you’re the only one I’ve had _here_ in quite some time. You?”

“No,” I’m honest, “It seems like this is the less risky option. I haven’t needed to.”

There’s a little smile as he approaches and kisses me lightly on the lips. “Be careful not to fall in love, Mr. Yuy. My heart’s already taken.”

I frown, but he kisses that, too. This is just more convenient. I didn’t mean anything romantic by it. We’ve already established our boundaries.

“Do you have any ideas for today? Some places that need more _understanding_ than others?” He asks, lips quirking at repeating my previous words.

I grab him and crush my mouth to his, which he easily accepts. My fingers clutched at his hair, twisting us closer together, tongue-fucking him for teasing me. He accepts, allows, opens wider, his hands sliding down my back, gripping my hips.

Pulling back, I admit, “I want you to fuck me.”

He’s pleased with that, I can tell by his eyes, his nearly insignificant bodily responses.

“I can do that,” he agrees, “But let’s take it slow again, hmm? I prefer to take my time.”

“Sure,” I tell him, leaning for a slower, gentler kiss. I have all night. I told Relena I’d be gone for most of the night and she had plans, anyway.

His cold fingers brush against my chest, edging against the pectorals, placing his lips on my clavicle and sucking it as he undoes my pants. I try to grab him, pull him closer, but he gently pushes my hands away so I can only let him touch me. I watch him lick and bite down my chest, his hands grasping and massaging my lower back, my ass, my thighs, as he descends.

Without grabbing it, he licks against my hardening cock. It’s not erect yet, but struggles to grow against his lips and cheek. His eyes shoot to me as he starts sucking, humming as he sucks me into his mouth.

I gasp and clutch my hands I’ve put behind my back. I just watch, licking my lips, and feeling that hot, soft suction.

And he does take his time, licking carefully the underside of my cock, mouthing the tip, slowly sucking it, and then letting it go to kiss and tongue the base all the way up. It’s not what I’m used to and I don’t know if I like it completely or not. I want to move fast, have always moved fast, but something about his eyes watching me leaves me breathless.

He wipes his cheek. “Let’s go to the bed.”

I do as instructed and he pulls out the lube. “Here, on your hands and knees….Yes, spread your legs…Wider.”

He settles down under me, as I'm on my hands and knees. His face right near my erection and he leans in, guides me into his mouth. I take the hint and shallowly thrust against his mouth.

I feel his hands on me, on my backside, searching and kneading. His fingertip brushes against my hole a few times as he sucks me before he dips it _in, out, in,_ carefully. It’s teasing and soft, and way too slow.

“Deeper,” I tell him and he obliges me by pushing further in. It’s awkward, not really unpleasant, but not pleasant yet.

His mouth pulls me in deeper as his finger pulses inside me, searching, stretching, just kinetic and visceral pressure inside me. He adds another finger and I murmur against the pressure, “Yes, there.”

Leisurely, he pushes deeper, curling his fingers to meet the contours of my body, carefully extending and shifting inside me.

With his mouth taking in my shallow thrusts and his fingers twisting in me, I can feel the heat of arousal quickly building. I can hear my ragged breathing as he presses, pushes and drags his fingers deftly into my body. I moan and shudder into his open, wanting mouth, getting harder and wanting more.

Gingerly, he pulls back, removes his fingers and mouth to ask, “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

“Yeah,” I gruffly answer and nod.

“Here, on your back so I can watch you.”

I comply without hesitation. I want to watch him, too. I want to see his face when he comes.

He quickly rolls the condom down his shaft, doing everything with precision and care. I realize that I like watching his hands. I bet it was just as erotic to watch him field strip his weapon back when he was Oz. I wish I could smell the gun lubricant on his hands, on the fingers he was just pushing inside me.

I get hot thinking about it. About him dominating me in his uniform, gun against my head, fucking me until he’s pumped every last drop of cum inside me.

I know that’s probably not a healthy thought. I know that’s probably something I should close down, never think about. And I certainly know not to ask him if he still has his uniform, hidden somewhere in secret.

Instead, I focus on his eyes as I feel his cockhead nudge against my asshole, brushing and moving against, but not pushing forward.

I glare at him, hot and heavy with desire, and him just fucking around with me. I can tell he wants to smile, see the hitch in his lips, but instead he presses into me.

We both breathe heavier, more open, as he presses into me, as I can sense each millimeter of his cock sliding into me. I watch his eyes, watching me. A reflection of desire between us, until he’s fully inside and pulling out, pushing back, too slow for a rhythm, but just exploring and feeling.

“Yeah?” He asks as the momentum gently builds.

“I’m fine,” I respond.

He bends to kiss my mouth, lifting my hips to bring our bodies closer. I moan in the kiss, feel the vibrations in my lips and teeth as his tongue trails the roof of my mouth.

The rhythm becomes more hurried, greedier, as we slide perfectly together. His hand wraps around my cock, squeezing and stroking me tightly.

His mouth breaks to pant and I wrap my hands around his neck. Not to choke him or hurt him, but hold him there, close to me, as he fucks me. His eyes, half-lidded, are still on my face. His mouth is open, wet, softly grunting. I can feel his breath on my lips, trailing down my neck. His eyes are so dark, so intent on me. 

I’m getting closer. I can feel the orgasm tremble inside me, nearing my cock, building…

Then I hear my phone go off suddenly. I don’t get phone calls, not unless they’re important.

We both freeze, heavily breathing against each other. The phone trills again.

“I need to check that,” I tell him and he nods. Easily, he pulls out of me and I scramble for my coat pocket.

It’s Relena. My heart drops a moment, as if somehow she was in the same room as me. Pausing, I look to Germaine, who nods quietly.

I take a slow, easy breath and pick up with audio only.

“Yeah?” I ask calmly, although my heart is punching my ribcage. “Everything okay?”

There’s a pause before she asks, “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you…um, when are you going to be home?”

Her voice is higher than usual, strained. My mind flashes through the possibilities.

“Is there anyone there with you? Simple yes or no,” I start out, pulling my pants up. This could be a hostage situation.

“No, Heero,” she sighs, “I’m okay. Everything’s okay. No one is here. I’m safe.”

“Then…?”

“I just want to know when you’ll be home.”

“I’ll be on my way.”

There’s a hesitating pause. “No, it’s okay. Are you- Are you with Duo right now?”

My gut tells me she’s searching for something, maybe trying to catch me in a lie. But why? What does she know or what is she trying to glean?

“No,” I tell her, “Just out. I wanted some time to myself.”

“I’m sorry, Heero,” she says, “Please don’t come home yet. Take your time, okay? Take some time to yourself. I’ll see you for a late dinner?”

“I’m coming home-”

“No,” she says, laughs a little and it eases my worry slightly. “It’s just some issues with the house. It’s not a big deal. It’s okay. Really.”

“…Okay.”

“I’ll see you later,” she says, more resolutely, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I repeat but I’m still lost.

She hangs up and I look to him, lost. Germaine leans back against the headboard and asks, “What was that?”

“I have no idea. It was Relena. She’s upset, but didn’t want me to come home. Gloria wouldn’t have-”

“No,” he cuts in somberly, “No, she isn’t aware. I’m discreet.”

I stand there, pants half on, phone in my hand. Still half-hard and wet with lube. I’m not sure what to do.

“It could be something else entirely,” he processes the possibilities with me, “It doesn’t always have to be about you.”

“True…Should I still go home?”

He intakes a sharp, long breath. “She wasn’t in danger?”

“No.”

“I suppose it’s up to you, then.”

“Could we finish up? Quick?”

“Sure,” he says and offers his hand to me.

I pull off my pants, throw the phone on the bed, and crawl onto the bed again, mouth seeking his. While I kiss him, I stroke him back to being hard, just as his hands cup my balls, trace against my groin, tease my cockhead.

When he’s hard again, I lean back and he follows, pushing my legs up. He pushes down a new condom and recoats his cock with lube, slowly pushing back into me. I can feel my throat vibrate with an appreciative moan as I can feel myself stretch and fill with him again.

Bending down to kiss my neck, he starts to thrust into me again and I meet him with each push. His hands slide over my chest, tug on my nipples, brush against my cock. I thought we were being quick, though, and I grunt out, “Jerk me off.”

He does instantly and I begin to wonder if he’s just waiting for me to tell him what I want.

“Bend me over and fuck me,” I grunt, “Harder.”

And like magic, he does. Sweat glistens on his forehead as he begins pumping into me in earnest and I’m drowning in the pleasure of being fucked for the first time. I can feel him graze against the prostate, his hand tight and rough on my erection, it’s going to be close. I’m close-

The phone rings again and we freeze again. But that ringtone is different. It's not Relena.

“Keep going,” I tell him because I know who it is.

It’s the only person who took my phone from me, who was able to take my phone from me. And just as easily hack into it, just so he could change the ringtone. Just so he could be different. Just so he could prove to me that he could…

And I’m not proud, but as Germaine is fucking me and the phone is ringing and Duo’s at the other end of that phone call, I think about Duo fucking me. Every thrust and light bite against my neck, I imagine Duo. 

I imagine his hands against my chest, slipping down to stroke me off. I imagine his body inside me, his long hair twisted and hanging in between us as he thrusts into me. I imagine his eyes watching me, watching my desire and wanting more. I imagine him inside me, hard, about to make me come.

And while the phone rings for the second round, I do come. I come so hard and so long, I can see stars bursting against my eyelids. I shake, uncontrolled and free to, within the shockwaves of intense ecstasy.

I feel like he’s here and he’s with me, his touch and smell, right here with me and inside me.

For some reason that also hurts. Beyond the shame and loathing, it hurts because he’s not here. He isn’t here. Never would be.

Germaine pulls out, slips off the condom, and in a few strokes, comes with a gasp, unloading his semen on my still-quaking stomach. Languidly, I draw my fingers across it as it quickly grows cold. I give myself only a few seconds to relish it, the first time, the fast beating of my heart and traces of euphoria swimming in my brain.

I huff a breath out, in satisfied completion, and he steps away to offer a warm, damp towel.

“Who was that?” He asks, pulling up his pants. “I could tell it was someone…important.”

I sigh as I clean myself and then pull my shirt on after inspecting my body for any errant marks.

“He’s…important. But it’s complicated.”

“Oh, I see,” he says with a loose smirk, “Another pilot.”

“How-” I begin to ask, but just relinquish my surprise at his keen perceptions. I’m tried. I’m troubled. I’m warm from the sex. I was just fucked and I don’t care enough to be surprised. “It doesn’t matter.”

“My, my, Heero, I didn’t take you as a romantic.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, zipping up my coat, placing the phone back in its pocket.

He offers a sly, quiet look. “I never would have imagined there was an unrequited love. Between the pilots, no less.”

“It’s just a physical attraction.”

“Hmm,” he replies, opening the door for us as we walk out of the room. “My mistake.”

“He’s getting married,” I evenly tell him.

His eyebrow twitches slightly. “So did you and so did I.”

I don’t respond because there’s nothing else to say. It’s nothing I’ve entertained because we’re just not like that. Duo and I aren’t like that. It’s just aberrant curiosities, stemming back from the days we shared a room on more than one occasion, and the soft noises I would sometimes hear at night from his bed. 

When we get to the door, I give him a nod and he slightly smiles. I decide that he looks more handsome like this, comfortable with me, with the situation.

I get into the car and listen to Duo's voicemail, which doesn’t say much, just says to call him when I get a chance. So I do. Just audio, no visuals.

“So,” he says immediately, “Have you fallen off the wagon again?”

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Relena called me. Sounded pretty upset.”

“Yeah, she called me, too,” I tell him, still confused. What order did she call us? Did she call him first or second? Why would she call both of us?

“So,” he starts again, but slightly antagonistically, “Where are you? Am I meeting you up again at some greasy spoon for coffee?”

“No, I just stepped out. I don’t know…” _I don’t know why she’s upset._

“Well, you better figure things out,” he huffs, “I bought you some time, but you’ve got to get your quacks in a row before you go home.”

“Wait…What do you mean you bought me time?”

“She asked if you were with me, so I told her, yeah, you’re here with me.”

And just like that, I hear the trapdoor shut on me. I was played. Played by Relena, and I have no excuse for my lies.


	16. Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Relena confronts Heero about the truth. In the wake, he goes to an unlikely source for help and discovers some things about himself that he's never realized before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommendation for this chapter: "when the party's over" by Billie Eilish

I weigh my options. I could leave. I could just walk away. I could create a new identity. I’ve done it so many times in my time, why would this time be different? But I hesitate.

I could go home and see exactly what it was about. Like Germaine said, it could be something else entirely, but why would she try to catch me in a lie? What roused any suspicion?

It might have been a fling I had previously. Maybe he found out who I was, too, like Germaine. Maybe it’s a blackmail attempt.

I almost wish it’s that because that would be easy to get rid of. I could assuage her that he was only saying that for the money, and then I could ruin him. I could take away his bank account, his lease, his credit. I could get him shipped elsewhere…or I could kill him.

I haven’t after the war. It was an unspoken promise to Relena… _to myself_.

But I’d rather break a promise than break her heart. I could kill again and I don’t know if the adrenaline in my veins at that thought is from the shame or excitement. There’s something to taking someone’s life, especially if they wronged you. I didn’t get that often in life, but I enjoyed it when I did. There were times I enjoyed killing, although I would never tell her that.

And I still feel regret, sharp and coppery regret, when I remember that I wasn’t the one to kill Dr. J. Now that he’s dead and all my day-dreaming plans of his death from years ago are fruitless, it almost seems heartless. He was, at the end, just an old and bitter man. A cold, calculating man who left nothing in his wake, not even a drop of blood or bone fragment. Just completely obliterated.

I know. I searched.

I hid that from Relena, too.

Deciding to head home, I stayed parked outside for some time before. Almost right on cue, Pagan wanders outside and to the car. I roll down my window.

“Master Heero,” he says, politely, “Are you not coming in?”

“Is she inside?”

“Yes, of course. I believe she’s waiting up for you.”

I sharply scan him. He’s lot smarter and more resourceful than people give him credit for. “What’s it about?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know, sir. All I know is that she was marking some renovations and she became quite…upset from that.”

“Renovations?” I counter, trying to figure out what that meant.

“Yes, around the estate.”

Oh, this could be able the weapons and traps I’ve set up around the perimeter before we moved in. I didn’t tell her. Or maybe this is about the secret surveillance system in the house. Again, I didn’t want to bother her with the details.

Maybe this is an invasion of privacy thing.

I nod to him, roll up the window and step out.

“Let’s go inside,” I tell him and he, kindly, smiles.

***

She’s in the living room and she sees us together. Her lips tighten a fraction. Her chest holds a breath. She’s upset, but I knew that.

“Thank you, Pagan, please take the rest of the night to yourself.”

“Oh course, Miss Relena,” he slightly bows and leaves us.

We stand in silence. I wait for her to begin.

“How was Duo’s…or did you not go there?” She asks, confrontationally. It doesn’t sound right towards me. It sounds foreign, even though I’ve heard the tone before. Just never towards me.

“He was covering for me,” I tell her the truth.

“Do…Do I have the right to ask where you were?” She stumbles, but her mouth is resolute.

Before I can answer, she adds, “Would you tell me the truth, Heero? If I did ask?”

I stare at her for a few seconds, trying to glean information. No…this isn’t about privacy. This is something else.

“What is this about?” I ask, completely void of inflection.

“I don’t even know what to ask right now…,” she says softly, “Every time I think that everything’s okay…something else happens.”

“With what?”

“With us!” she shouts, frustrated and at the verge of breaking. Her eyes are wet, but she doesn’t cry. The outburst is troubling. She doesn’t like to yell.

“I don’t understand-”

“Are you actually going to therapy with Duo?”

I have no idea where this is heading and I’m not comfortable with that. Did he say something? Mention something, in the guise of helping?

“Of course.”

“Then what is he covering for you? Or is it the other way around?” She asks and then begs, “Heero, you need to talk to me!”

There’s an itch of awkwardness as I’m still trying to piece this together. This isn’t a blackmail attempt from a one-night stand. No, too personal. But I’m still not sure what.

“What are you talking about?”

“Heero,” she breathlessly pleads, “This is the time…the time you need to be honest with me…because I _need_ you to be honest. I don’t care about the things you’ve done, the people you’ve killed, the people who hurt you, but you need to be honest, please…”

“Yes,” I answer, confused, “I have receipts. Duo and I see a therapist…”

“Okay,” she sighs and then asks, “Were you actually with him tonight?”

“No,” I reiterate, unsteady nervousness rising up my chest. I feel like I’m being interrogated again, and I never thought I’d feel like that with Relena. My stomach turns at that thought.

“Okay. Where were you tonight?”

“I was…with Germaine.”

“Doing what?” That question has way too much weight to be innocent. I should have left. I should have driven away. I never should have picked up her phone call. She knows something, maybe not everything, but definitely _something_. Something I never want to talk about, especially with her.

“Talking about the war. What is this about?”

Her face darkens, jaw clenches. “I…found something…in the closet.”

I slowly breathe, reset my body to remain neutral and closed. I can’t give anything away. That’s what this is about. My mind starts racing with damage control. This is either lie or tell the truth. There is no middle ground, there is no dancing around this.

“I had…someone over to…start to remodel the closet…to expand it and…there was this metal box hidden-”

“What are you asking?” I cut her off. Because I know what was in that box and she knows now, too. We both know about the videos now, about the objects hidden there.

The urge, solid and desperate, to flee is here in my chest, but I don’t want to leave. My hands want to shake, even though I don’t let them. What does she want then? For me to confess? For me to lie? For me to ask for forgiveness? Or feign innocence? How much can I salvage this? What can I say to make this right?

Her face caves in, shame on her cheeks, and she swallows hard. “Honestly…I don’t know.”

Even if she did, I wouldn’t know how to answer.

I put my coat back on and walk out. This time, she doesn’t call out for me. This time she lets me go without a word and I don’t know if that hurts more.

***

I call from a payphone again.

“Yes?” Germaine’s voice is there. Just above the crackle of static and it feels good, even if distant.

“….I won’t be seeing you for a while.”

I can hear the sharp intake of breath. “Understood.”

He hangs up and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed that there wasn’t something more.

I tap my fingers on the receiver and I don’t know what my next moves are.

I don’t want to call Duo. I don’t want to call the others. I don’t know who else.

And then suddenly, she appears in my mind. I don’t know why. Well, maybe I do, maybe that’s a lie. Maybe I need direction, even though I have a feeling she’ll tell me to find it for myself. But I pay her, so she’ll accept me, because it’s impersonal. Because it’s just a transaction. And I feel comfortable enough with that. 

Sighing, I enter her numbers.

“Can I speak to Janine?” I ask the Therapist’s receptionist and wait to be connected.

“Heero,” I can hear her, “This is a surprise. How can I help you?”

“Can I see you?”

There’s a short silence with static hissing lowly in my ear, before she responds, “I have an appointment in two hours, but if you can get here before then, I can see you.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen,” I reply and hang up.

***

I sit down, alone, in her office. Duo’s seat looks empty but I need to be alone.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, settling down across from me, “I don’t expect this to be a social call.”

“I need this to be taken off your notes. Like it never happened.”

She muses her lips, “All right.”

“I will find out if this has been entered in-”

She cuts me off sharply, “Heero, I won’t enter this into anything but memory, and don’t try to threaten me. I won’t allow that. You ask for confidentially, and so I’ve given it to you.”

“Yes…” I say and sigh. “I have to be careful. I have to be…” _Discreet?_ I can hear Germaine say that in my mind.

“Okay,” she agrees and holds up her hands in a symbol of surrender, tucks her notepad into her drawer. “Anything you say only exists in this room unless it’s a danger to yourself or others…Is it a danger-”

“No,” I cut to the chase, “But no one else can know.”

“Okay,” she responds flatly.

“Duo can’t know.”

“No one will know,” she assures me and suddenly I feel like I need all of these assurances like I've never needed them before. Even if I don’t trust them, having them soothes my desperation.

I nod, take a breath. There’s so much. Too much to go through. I try to collect all my thoughts into making sense.

I admit, “I think you’re right…”

“Oh?” She prods when I hesitate.

“I think I see them…as the same. I think Relena is a proxy for my mistakes. I think…I think…”

I can’t say it. I think I married her for atonement. Because it was easy. Because it just made sense. Because I could make everything that I had done previously worth something if I could make sure she was happy and safe. She, herself, as the ideal of peace. 

“I don’t think I said that,” she slowly mentions, “I think I just asked what you felt…If that’s your conclusion, let’s explore it a little, shall we?”

“I think…I don’t like women,” I finally say it. I finally open myself to that shattering honesty.

For all of her flat affect and stillness, I do see a twitch on her face, a faltering. She didn’t expect that and I’m not sure if I should leave or continue. I don’t know what to do with that falter.

“Tell me about that.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Well…are you feeling this just towards your wife, or…?”

“I have never wanted a woman.”

Carefully, she nods and doesn’t react this time, just absorbs the information.

“But you have…wanted a _man_?” She asks, but the usual directness is softened.

“Yes…I have had…Yes.”

“You’re in a relationship?”

“No…just-…no. There was one recently that was just- well, mostly physical.”

“Tell me about it,” she says without any hint of malice or curiosity. Just flat words coming out of her pale lips. 

“He’s a friend, I suppose. The husband of my wife’s friend.”

She thinks for a moment and surprises me by asking, “Ex-military?”

“…Yeah.”

Letting go of a breath, she nods again and her fingers move against the table in thought. “Did someone find out? Is that why you’re here today?”

My jaw won’t open for a moment, but then I admit, “Relena…found some…items…and…”

“What was her reaction?”

“She doesn’t know what to think.”

“Have you ever told her…?”

“No, no. After everything…no. I can’t.”

“Do you…feel like you are required to be there, as her husband? Or, maybe more as her protector? Is that why you didn't tell her?”

“It’s the thing that makes the most sense. For me to be there…”

“How so?”

“It just does. It makes strategical sense. She is the one in the position of power, is the one with the ideals. I’m the soldier to make it happen.”

“Hmm, like a princess with her white knight?”

“A knight has ideals. A soldier doesn’t.”

“But…what’s a soldier to do when there’s no war?”

“There will always be war.”

“And that’s why you need to be there for her? When war comes again?”

“…I suppose.”

“So, you’re just waiting to be ‘reactivated’ as a soldier, as _her_ soldier?”

“I suppose.”

“That’s a romantic way of thinking of it,” she deadpans and I don’t know what to take of that, “But romantic ideals aren’t really your style…or are they, Heero?”

“It just makes the most sense," I reiterate the point.

“So, why _you_ specifically? I’m sure she has other soldiers at her disposal…so why you?”

“It makes the most sense.” I'm getting tired of this. 

“For you or her?”

I swallow and honestly, I’m not sure.

“It seems like you’ve put yourself in a situation because of its ‘ideal’ and because it ‘makes sense’, but have you ever considered other options for yourself? Surely, you see this as the optimal situation until another war begins, but what happens in the meanwhile?”

“I’ve survived worse situations, if that’s what you mean. I can- No. I’m meant to remain by her side as she realizes her ideals, and world peace. I can’t kill her so I can assure her success and safety at least.”

“And _your_ ideals are her ideals," she guesses.

“Like I’ve said soldiers don’t have-”

“Says you. Says your superiors, but I can assure you, sitting here as a professional, soldiers are human. And humans have thoughts, opinions… _hopes_. Heero, do you consider yourself human?”

“…I’m not sure.”

“Would it help if I told you that, in my professional opinion, you are human?” She asks, sincerely. I want to argue, but I keep myself still. The things they did to me, the things they wanted of me...I don't feel like a human anymore. 

“You are nuanced,” she continues, “You’re contradictory, even hypocritical at times. A machine, a ‘perfect’ soldier wouldn’t be as nuanced. You clearly have desires that are contradictory to your so-called raison d'être. You have regrets. But you also have connection with others. You care about them and their opinion of you.”

I’m quiet, weighing her words, feeling that twinge to detach myself from the situation, from her. But she continues, “So, part of my job is to help you realize your actualization, and connect with your emotions. Hard thing to do with soldiers after they’ve been trained, especially as long as you have. But I can see you making progress. Even you reaching out to me is progress. Do you agree?”

“I don’t have many options.”

“I’m flattered, but I think you would be surprised.”

“I can’t go to Duo about this.”

She leans back in her chair, ruminating, and perhaps suppressing a sigh. “And _why not_ Duo? Or more precisely, why _do_ you want to tell Duo? Sometimes our mind works backwards. People that irritate us often remind of our own flaws, or things we avoid are the things are the things we want. So, let’s explore why you would want to-”

“I don’t want to explore that,” I grit my teeth, feel my heart scrape against my lungs.

“I’ve hit a nerve,” she calmly states, almost to herself, “I wonder why that is.”

I shake my head and wonder if I should leave. If I should just stop everything that I’m doing.

“This space is about safety. This is a non-judgment space to which we can-”

“ _Not him_ ,” I warn once more. I’m going to leave if she pushes once more time.

“Okay,” she relents, lets go of that sigh she was holding onto. “Let’s go back to something about Relena.”

“Fine.”

“I was curious and maybe you can explain this more…Previously, you’ve said that she was your foil during the war, she obstructed your missions. Do you remember?”

“Of course. Yes.”

“So, if she was your foil of your objectives, why would you make your relationship, or more aptly, your marriage, like a mission?”

“I don’t follow.”

“You said that your role in her life is like…a sleeper agent, to be reactivated when required, correct?”

I cross my arms. “I guess so.”

“Is your relationship with others like this? Do you make friendships based solely on when you ‘reactivate’? Say…your relationship with your other friends?”

“I…don’t know.” I answer and realize that I don’t think I do. They don’t need me like she needs me. They are in their own, private lives, perhaps with missions themselves. But it isn't the same and I don't know why.

She pauses, “Are you acting as a mission-based ‘sleeper agent’ for Duo?”

Abruptly, I stand to leave but she holds her hand up, “Wait, Heero. Just hear me out. Just think about this and you can go.”

I glare at her, but I pause, and hate myself for pausing.

“If you made your life for her as a mission, but every mission you’ve had prior failed because of her influence, why then make your relationship like a mission? Why is it different from the other pilots or people in your life?" She slowly puts together, "Is it _possible_ that you knew this mission, like the others, would fail because she was at its core this whole time?”

I had never thought about it like that and it scares me. Why would I sabotage myself, or her? Why…?

“Heero,” Janine carefully says, “Our minds are powerful things. We’re always trying to fix our past mistakes. Our relationships reflect that. How we interact with others reflect that. But the fact is that we can never go back to those moments of the past. Just as you can’t save that little girl, I can’t go back to my past and fix my issues, or help my father. I can't go back and save him. It’s a lost battle. We lost the battle…”

“So what am I supposed to do?” I ask and it sounds angrier than I meant it to.

“Accept that. Accept that the little girl is gone. Accept that you’ve been hurt for a long, long time. Accept that you have desires. Accept that Relena is her own person and that your objectives and expectations for your relationship probably don’t match hers.”

“I can’t leave her…”

There’s a sad smile that curves her lips. “Like I’ve said, our brains sometimes think backwards…so maybe think about why you _‘can’t’_ leave her.”

I take a breath, give a nod, and move to leave, but then turn back. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she answers and the smile is already gone.


	17. Blocked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One by one, Heero blocks the other pilots out of his life after the damage has been dealt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, things are going to become a little slower as I'm actually adding new content at this point. But it's being worked on and I'm a few chapters ahead. Also, I was confused when I said a few more chapters because I was thinking of where I am now, so maybe like 8ish chapters left maybe. Whatevs. I can't count and I like to ramble, so there might be more. Plus heavy angst coming your way soon. 
> 
> Song suggestion for this chapter: "Nobody's Fault But My Own" by Beck

I sleep in seedy hotels for the next few days and wait for the calls because I know they’ll happen eventually.

In the meanwhile, I only bring one guy back to the hotel. He was gentle and I liked his dark stubble and sharp chin. But halfway through, I realized that I wasn’t ready to have sex again. He was nice, he offered to cuddle, but I’m not really into that. He left without incident, but gave me his number. I threw it out immediately.

Solitude doesn’t bother me and, in a way, is peaceful. No gatherings. No such-and-such dignitary coming to the house. No dressing up in stiff cravats. I am alone in the silence and I realize now how much I’ve missed this. Or at least, missed its familiarity. 

Of course, I monitor her. I already had taps on her phones and emails. On the third day of my absence, she called each pilot, I’m sure to see if they had heard from me. I imagined that Duo would call first, but only a hair’s breath before Quatre. Trowa would after Quatre insisted. Wufei…probably not. Maybe he wouldn’t even pick up her call.

I was right about the first one.

Duo left a voice message that said, “If you don’t call me back, I’m going to find you and, _I swear to whatever God that'll listen_ , I’ll make your life a _living hell_ for making me find you. Call me. Now.”

I call back.

“What the fuck is happening?” He asks as soon as it rings.

“Hi.”

“Yeah, hi,” he huffs, “Now, _what the fuck is happening_?!”

“Don’t worry,” I tell him. “I’m fine. Don’t look for me.”

I hang up as he’s sputtering, and then block his calls. After the others call, I’ll destroy the phone and buy a burner. To be honest, I considered doing that in the first place. Maybe I’m getting soft.

Quatre is next, as predicted.

“Hi Heero,” he sounds tired and I know it can’t be with me. It’s probably work. It’s probably his own struggles, which he happily piles on to forget the war.

“I’ll tell you what I told Duo-”

“Hmm,” he says, “Something about you being fine and not to look for you. He already talked to me.”

“Yeah,” I tell him.

“Don’t hang up on me, Heero.”

I lean back on the bed and sigh. The mattress smells like mold and ammonia. It's how he says it that I don't. It's "hang up on _him"_ , like he's the one who needs me. 

“What, Quatre?” I flatly ask.

“I know that you'll do what you think you need to and I can’t change your mind. Trust me, I learned that back in Sanc many times. But…please tell me that I don’t have to worry. Because I can feel something about this…and it _makes me worry_ , Heero.”

I’ve always liked how Quatre says “Heero”, as if it’s something powerful, almost in a trilled whisper. He makes me feel like it really is my name and I wonder if Trowa feels the same.

I sigh again, but this time he hears it.

“Just between us,” he says so quietly, “Just you and me…I can feel the turmoil, Heero. What’s happened?”

“I…don’t know if my marriage is over.”

“Oh,” he softly says and I feel the disappointment in his whisper.

“It’s my fault,” I tell him.

“Marriage is a two-person act, though.”

I tell him because it’s Quatre. Quatre is the closest to a ‘safe place’ as I’ve felt in my life.

I remember being in Sanc and I would hear his piano from the hall and know that it was him, only him. I know that it was something about his demeanor, his smell, that when I would come back into our shared room, I wouldn't feel that panicked squirm in my stomach.

And there was once, just once, that I accepted a selfish moment between us, late at night when his heart was heavy with loss. In the late hours, I had carefully climbed into his bed and let him wrap his arms around me. I could feel his heat, his heart, his sorrow as he quietly wept against me and shuddered against me. 

It wasn't sexual. It wasn't like with Duo...or even Zechs. It was a strange wave of protectiveness that I rarely feel. Quatre didn't say anything that night, although I thought he would have. He just held onto me like I was the only person in the world, and I very stiffly held him back. I pushed myself for that moment, that touch, but I wished then that it wasn't pushed. I wished that it hadn't been complicated from a past I would never tell him, and that he would probably never ask.

He took my awkward motions of comfort and it seemed like it was enough, for that night, for that moment.

Finally, I admit to him, “I cheated on her.”

And as soon as I say it, I feel somehow better and worse. I feel a burden lifted, but a disgust roil my stomach. Quatre has, without a doubt, seen me at my absolute worst before, just as I’ve seen him, but this time feels different. It feels less frenzied, less chaotic, and a slow and quiet collapse of myself. Just saying this to him makes me feel like maybe I really have lost a battle that I have been fighting all of my life.

“Oh,” he says again, just as soft and disappointed. “That’s…that’s surprising.”

“Because of who she is?”

“No, because of who you are…Heero, um…can I ask you something?”

“Everyone is,” I grunt.

His light chuckle feels like music and tugs away some of my apprehension. “Oh, I’m sure...Heero, at your wedding…I felt something. It felt like apprehension. At the time, I just thought it was jitters. But it wasn’t jitters was it?”

“…No.”

“Okay,” he says, “Yeah…”

“What do I do, Quatre?”

“Uh…Well, what can be done?”

“I don’t know. If I don’t fix it, I might be damaging all of my relationships.”

“How so?”

“…I don’t know. Everything was supposed to fit into place. If I don’t make it fit…”

“Do you think if you don’t make it fit, you’ll lose us? Lose _me_?”

“I don’t know. Everyone seems to be making it work, moving on.”

There a pause before he, warmly says, “You won’t lose me, Heero. We’ve shared too much together for anything to push me away. I…can’t really say anything for the others, but I’m here, Heero. I’m here for you.”

There’s a twist in my chest when he says the words that I thought I wanted to hear, bu they don't console me like I thought they would. “I don’t know if that makes me feel better.”

“How so?”

“To have something is also the same as being ready to lose it. Maybe I'm better off on my own.”

To my surprise, there’s a soft chuckle. “That sounds so much like you.”

“Hm.”

“Heero?”

“Yeah?”

“What were you looking for?” He asks quietly against my ear, “What were you missing in your relationship?”

I sigh, pull the phone away from me and hang up. I can’t tell him yet.

Suddenly exhausted, I close my eyes and I’m not surprised when I begin to dream…

***

The phone is ringing next to me in the bed. Trowa, I’m sure. Or maybe Relena.

Stretching, I sit up and look down. No, I was wrong about the order and I frown slightly. I’m surprised.

I pick it up and answer, “Hello?”

“Hello,” Wufei’s voice is clipped.

“Why are you calling me?”

“Because I’m tired of dodging the others.”

“Are you going to ask me what’s wrong?” I bite, but somehow still shocked that he’d even bother at all.

“No and I don’t really care,” he answers, “It sounds personal and I don’t care about-”

Tired, frustrated, and maybe to rock him off kilter, I just tell him, “Wufei, I’m gay.”

He’s the only one who doesn’t care and I lean into that fact. Maybe because he’s uncomfortable with it is why I lean into it. I'm tried, physically and mentally, of trying to keep up. 

There’s a long silence. I can imagine him, slowly blinking in confusion, maybe he thinks he misheard me.

“What?” He asks after a full minute and it’s rough, like from bottom of his throat.

“I’m gay.”

I hang up during another bout of silence and block his number. He won’t say anything to anyone because he’ll be processing that for a while.

I’m confused and awed at how I feel, though. It feels good, actually. There’s a little less pain in my chest, like taking a long drink of water after running for miles. I pull in a deep breath and let it push into my abdomen, before pushing it out.

I feel better.

Maybe that was what Janine was trying to say this whole time. That desires, _my desires_ , would be easier if I just let it go. If I knew it and let it go.

_If I could accept that._

I already lost the battle…I don’t need to keep fighting the ghosts of a battle already lost.

I don’t wait for Trowa. I call him and he picks up quickly, as if expecting it.

I don’t speak first, he does.

“So…have you figured out what you’ve wanted yet?”

“What?”

“Sorry, I was thinking about our last fireside chat. When we talked about Relena…”

Oh, I remember now and it seems like that was years ago, even though it was only a month ago. We talked about truth. We talked about life. We talked about the war.

“Oh, yeah. To be honest, I’m not sure. I think I might have ruined it anyway.”

“Ruined what?”

“Maybe everything…”

There’s a stillness as he ruminates, doesn’t jump to anything, doesn’t keep badgering me. I give him his time and space, or maybe it's the other way.

“Do you want to come stay with me for a bit? We could always use an extra set of hands,” he offers and means it.

“I don’t know,” I answer, weighing my options. “I’ll probably stay on my own. No offense but Quatre has you on speed dial and I’m not so sure if I want to be that accessible.”

“Fair enough,” he answers with slight mirth, “The offer stands, though.”

“Why?” I ask, suddenly aware of the situation, of questions I’ve never wondered before. “Why did you save me before?”

We’ve never talked about it. During the war, it just was. I lived and accepted it. He would feed me, bandage me, and clothe me until I could myself, and I just accepted it. I never thought to question it. What drove him to take care of me? To save my dying body?

What drove him to offer this kindness now?

Just...why?

“Because you needed someone to,” he simply answers.

“Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t…”

There’s another pause before he asks, “For who? For her or for you?”

“…Both.”

He doesn’t hide the sigh at my answer and it echoes in the static.

“Heero, sometimes I think you make your life more complicated than it needs to be,” he says with that directness only Trowa can manage, both careful and even.

“That might be true.”

“Look,” he squares with me, “I’ll get Quatre off your back, but I can’t get through to Duo. You’ll need to level with him…Or..”

“Or?”

“He’s going to find you soon if you stay at that shitty motel…”

“You already know where I am,” I state, not really shocked, but slightly admonish myself. I was sloppy…was that on purpose?

I can hear Janine saying that the brain sometimes works backwards. Do I want to be found? If that's true, why do I keep sabotaging myself? Why am I contradictory? 

Trowa cuts through the thought,“Of course, and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Duo finds you. So, you either level with him or you need to leave again.”

“Why do you keep pointing out options? Wouldn’t it be better if I went back?”

There’s creeping stillness at the other end of the line before he slowly says, “I also wanted to save you when you self-detonated. I made that choice. I didn’t want to see you sacrifice yourself for such a small consequence. I saw myself in you at that moment, and I…didn’t want that for myself. I would have without question, but actually seeing it…”

I’m about to say something, but he adds, “I had two choices; I chose one. I don’t regret it, even if you do. I knew you weren’t my enemy. When you sought out the Noventas, I thought it was pointless, I wanted to stop you, especially as I got to know you…But I didn’t because the choices we have, even if only two, are the moments who make us who we are. Choices make us human, keep us moving.”

“I don’t feel like my choices have made me better. How am I supposed to separate myself from what I was trained to be?”

“Yeah…but if you don’t make the decisions that make sense to _you_ , not some strategic positioning or romantic ideation, you will always be empty. You will always be seeking something out of your grasp.”

“You know this from experience?”

After pausing, he admits quietly, “Yes, I missed a lot of opportunities. I’m trying to make it right now, maybe for both you and for me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Good luck, Heero.”

He’s the one to hang up. I almost do it, but ultimately decide not to block his number. He’s the only number in my phone.

I gather up what few belongings I have and walk out, to check out of the hotel.


	18. Sinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero and Relena discuss their marriage and face some very hard, very rough truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit darker, so warnings for that. I mean, it's Heero, so he's...kinda dark. Just warnings. Trowa is real MVP, though. 
> 
> Song suggestion this chapter: You Never Loved Me by Aimee Mann

She looks fine and I feel somehow disappointed. She’s perfectly poised, a tight frown on her face. But she took my video call, so I guess there’s that. I guess she’s ready for this.

“Heero,” she breathes out.

“Relena,” I echo her tone.

A sad smile eases onto her lips. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Mm,” I agree. I’m glad she’s fine, too.

“I thought that I might have been more prepared for this,” she says, thoughtfully, “I’ve been thinking about this moment for the past few weeks, but…here we are.”

Reluctantly, I meet her eyes, but they’re sharp and without hesitancy.

“What I found was something…wasn’t it? Something that you’ve hidden.”

“Yes.”

She nods and muses her lips and I realize it’s a move to suppress her tears. She’s done it before. Not often, but has done it in front of me before. I realize that if she doesn’t allow me back, that I am going to miss her greatly. Miss her little mannerisms, miss her warmth.

“I talked with Germaine,” she says and that jolts me. I can feel my chest drag each breath through, labored by the thought of them talking together.

“…Yeah.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, feeling her own breath labor, I imagine. “At first, he was very protective of your privacy and denied anything, but…I told him about how we met. Who we were then. Who we are now. I asked him if he knew you, too. Knew things I didn’t know.”

I’m sure she’s not surprised by my silence; it’s always been there between us.

“He told me enough,” she says and she muses her lips again, pulled tight and hard. “Heero…Was what I wanted from you wrong? Was I misunderstanding everything?”

“I love you,” I tell her, a knee-jerk reaction and she lightly chuckles rigidly.

“I think you love things about me. I think you love…I don’t know,” she sighs, flustered for a moment before composing herself again, “I don’t know what you love about me because you never tell me. I have to find out about you by finding things out for myself. When I think back…I think it was that way from the start. I would seek you out. When you came to Sanc, I guess I thought…”

Pausing, her eyes slide down the screen to her hands, clasped before her, “When you came to me… _for me_ during the Barton takeover. I thought that I finally had you seeking me. I thought that was the beginning of something. But…I think I was wrong.”

“I’m supposed to be there with you.”

“Oh?” She chuckles, “Supposed to? And why is that?”

“To maintain peace. You’re a target-”

She laughs again, but it’s not a laugh. It’s a crumbled breath as all her lip-musing is fraught and her eyes are full of tears. Easily, the small tears drop as quickly as they’re formed.

“I was…a target? Not your wife?” She asks, gently.

I realize my mistake and it’s hard, all these emotional puzzles of saying the right thing or feeling the right thing. I’m exhausted. I just want to reset everything. Why is this so hard? Why is she making this so hard?

“You were both.”

“I am not…what you want.”

Frustrated, I try to explain, “It isn’t about what I want.”

There a look in her eyes then, something cold and distant, like she’s not there anymore. Like she’s just shut down the screen between us. She numbly nods and swallows, new tears falling, just falling silently.

“I can’t believe this is where it ends,” she whispers so low, but knows I can read her lips.

“No,” I tell her, firmly. “I’ll come back. I can-”

Her eyes snap to me, studying my face and for some reason, it makes me feel like I’m on display again. Like I’m not learning the lesson. Like I’m about to be punished like I used to be if I didn’t meet their requirements. I feel like I’m about to be shut off, and alone again, and I don’t want that. I don’t know what she wants me to say. I don’t know the right words for her to love me again. For her to just forget about my flaws and vices, and let me come back home.

I realize with a cold panic that I want to have a home to come back to. I want her to let me have a place I can come back to without questions or conditions. I want a place I can return to and I feel like my mistakes have, once again, screwed up that possibility.

If she doesn’t want me, I’ll be losing the only home I’ve ever had.

“Heero, I can’t do this,” she confesses, “I can’t make you want me. I can’t make you want a family with me. I can’t make you want this…”

“I’ll some back and I’ll-”

She cuts me off with her raised hand, firm and resolute. Her face is, too. She’s not the soft and gentle Relena, but the direct and determined Peacecraft, and heir to a dynasty.

“No, Heero,” she answers, “You can’t make yourself either. It’s just…not what either of us have hoped for. I love you, Heero. I always will, but…this won’t work. I want more than you promising to be here because _I_ want you here. Even if you do stay, it’s not what I want. _Not like this_ …”

I sigh, I adjust in my seat. Why won’t she just let me do this? Why won’t she listen? I will give her whatever she wants. I will be hers. I will give her my genetic material to create a “family”. I will give her sex and emotionally stability. I will give her loyalty. And I don’t understand why she doesn’t want that. That’s all I can give. That’s all I have and I don’t understand why that isn’t enough.

Why is what I give never enough?

“I’m, um, actually in Brazil right now, so if you want to go to the house and collect some things, I’ll let Pagan know you’re coming. But I’m going to take down all the security devices you’ve put up around the house and…also on all of my own personal devices. I don’t want you watching me.”

“You knew?”

“Pagan found them.” He was always surprising me at his resourcefulness. I shouldn’t have dismissed him so often in the past. I should have looked into who he is…who he really is or was.

“So, um,” she interrupts my thoughts, “I want some space from you…for a while. I know that we’ll see each other again. I won’t be stupid about that. I know that you’ll always be a part of my life. But right now, I want to be alone.”

“Are we done?” I ask. I mean our relationship and it sounds flat, but I don’t mean it. I don’t mean to sound so unaffected because I’m not. I am affected. I just want her to keep chasing me, keep pushing me, keep trying to get my attention. I want her to keep wanting me because she was the only one who ever did.

And I know how selfish that is.

“Yes,” she whispers and the screen goes dead.

Without even thinking, I throw the screen against the wall and scream, “ _FUCK!_ ” 

I just ruined the thing that I was meant to do while still alive. I just fucked up everything. I just sabotaged the only thing I had. I punch the wall of the motel and it’s too easy. It’s just cheap drywall and my fist goes through without much force or pain. It’s not even bruising. It’s not enough.

I wish I could cry. Other people do it so easily. So goddamn easily, but nothing comes out. Nothing works right with me.

I don’t work right and I never did.

I should have died in the war. I should have been eliminated.

Crouching against the wall, I try to breathe, trying to get a hold of myself. I can’t stop shaking.

I can’t believe myself. Can’t forgive myself.

I just lost the only thing I ever had.

***

I only have one phone number and I call it because I have only one question.

Trowa picks up, sounds busy behind him, like there’s people.

“Hey,” he says, “Give me a second.”

After some jostled silence, the background gets quieter.

“Okay,” he says.

“How do you make the right choice?” I ask.

He doesn’t ask me what I mean or why I’m asking this late in my life. I think he knows what it’s like not growing up with honest choices. He’s maneuvered it, though, and I need that.

“You weigh the choices and the outcomes,” he answers deftly, “You take the long-term goals and consequences into account because that’s what’s going to be affected the most.”

I ponder that. “What if I don’t know what the outcome will be or might be?”

He’s quiet before asking, “Because you don’t know or...because you won’t be around to know?”

“My mission failed…”

There’s a pause, “There aren’t any missions anymore.”

“I don’t think I can live with that.”

I hear a shushed swear from Trowa before he answers, “We can go over and over about the philosophies of war and death, and being noble or righteous, of peace and war, but the bottom line is that I don’t want you to kill yourself over something meaningless. I didn’t during the war and I don’t now.”

He sounds angry and I ask if he is.

“Yes, I’m pissed off,” he replies and he does sound pissed off, “Because I’m tired of all of us fighting imaginary things. I’m tired of Quatre dodging my calls and acting like everything is fine. I’m tired of Duo calling me up to vent about you, or ask if I’ve heard from you. I have no idea what Wufei is doing besides he’s working with the Preventers now, but I haven’t heard from him in months. And to be honest, I wouldn’t even know if he was alive or dead besides the occasional email from Une.”

He hisses a sigh, “I’m tired of waking up at night not knowing where the hell I am. And I’m tired of Cathy asking about it. And I’m tired of getting your calls that, half the time, I imagine you calling me with a goddamn gun to your head. I’m a shitty lifeline, Heero. I’m fucked up, too.”

I do have a gun, by my side. Not in my hands, but close enough to feel its weight on the bed next to me. But hearing his voice, warm and low, venting about everything, makes me feel more grounded.

“Yeah…” I tell him as an apology.

He sighs again, a quick, pained huff against the phone. “Look, I get that it’s hard right now. It’s going to be hard all of our lives. We’ve had hard lives so others don’t have to, right? We knew that when we signed up. It’s not going to get easier. We’re not that charmed or lucky.”

“I don’t know what my chances are. I blew it. I totally screwed up everything.”

“Okay,” he says, still frustrated, “You screwed up. _Fine._ Live with it. Figure out some sort of lesson from it and keep going. Because that’s who we are. We keep going.”

“Is that what your therapist says?” I ask because it sounds rehearsed.

“No, that’s what _I_ tell him. Because it’s true.”

“…Yeah.”

“Figure it out, Heero,” Trowa tells me directly, “Just keep going. Keep screwing up. Keep trying. Keep calling me even if it pisses me off. And come stay with me if you need to. I always have a place for you.”

Those words, that welcome, curve around my heart and I hold it there before easing out a breath.

“I know Quatre would offer, too, but I have a feeling my cheap couch is a lot more comfortable than his lifestyle right now.”

“Do you…” I hesitate to for the words, “…ever wonder how life would be like if we ordinary people? If we had things normally? If we had…homes and names and families?”

“No, never,” he answers resolutely, “Because then I wouldn’t be who I am…and I wouldn’t have the name and home and family I do now.”

There’s a small silence as I absorb his words and conviction. There’s a lot in what he said and in what he didn’t say. I absorb his anger, his concern, his guarded hope. I pull it all into me and sit with it, in this cheap, sad hotel room in a series of cheap, sad hotel rooms.

It’s true. Without J, I wouldn’t have my name. Without Operation Meteor, I wouldn’t have found such emotions that I didn’t know I was even capable of having. I wouldn’t have late night talks with Trowa. I wouldn’t have that offer of acceptance into his home, into Quatre’s home. And maybe that’s what home is meant to be. Not a physical place, but the offer of “always”. Maybe I've been blind to it. 

“Good night, Trowa,” I tell him and there’s sincerity that I rarely hear in my own tone.

“Good night, Heero. I hope I hear from you soon.”

“Even if it pisses you off,” I add.

I can hear the smile in his voice as it softens, “Yes, even when it pisses me off.”


	19. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duo confronts Heero with some hard truths...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho, I've been looking forward to posting this chapter for a while. It's a DOOZY. Enjoy! :) 
> 
> Song suggestion for this chapter: Nemesis by Alanis Morissette

“Un- _fucking_ -believable,” Duo grimaces when he sees me enter the room. I can tell he and Janine were just talking about me.

Carefully, I take off my coat and sit in my usual seat next to Duo without a word. We already had this appointment booked before everything went down, so I thought I should keep it.

Janine’s eyes switch between us as Duo fumes, “Two weeks and nothing? What the fuck…?”

I stare straight ahead, not giving him the benefit of my reaction.

Defeated, he slumps into the chair beside me, shaking his head. I nod an acknowledgement to Janine, who nods back. “Welcome, Heero. So, I hear you’ve been indisposed for the last few weeks…?”

“Yeah,” I gruffly answer, still looking ahead and not deviating to Duo.

“Have you kept in contact with anyone during this time?”

“Yeah.”

This jostles Duo into speaking, alive again beside me, but I don’t turn.

“With who?” He spits out.

I tilt my head, see his shape in my peripheral. “Trowa…”

“You’re kidding,” he snorts, “Trowa? Why the hell didn’t you call _me_? I'm the one twenty minutes from your house, not in a colony somewhere! Why the hell didn’t you come back?”

“Relena asked me not to.”

Anger evaporates into confusion. “What? She found you?”

“No, I called her. We had a long talk.”

“When? Why? I mean, I’m still in the dark about everything, buddy. Why did you go to Trowa? I thought…”

He trails off and I let it dissolve in the silence, but Janine doesn’t.

“What did you think, Duo?” She asks, calmly and he glances up as if realizing she’s still there.

“I thought that… _we_ were in this together,” he carefully puts together, his voice soft. He’s hurt. Maybe even jealous of Trowa. What a strange turnabout.

“Not in this,” I say to the space behind him, still not fully looking at his face and the raw emotion there. He’s always been so expressive, just like an open book, always resting on a favorite page. But it’s a little too overwhelming right now to read. There's just too much out in the open. 

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m thinking about joining the Preventers, for a while at least.”

His breath is caught in between a laugh and a surprised huff of exclamation. “I…I don’t even know what to say to that. What…? I mean… _What the hell is happening_?!”

This time, I do focus on him. There’s worry. There’s hurt. There’s a strange sort of desperation. His eyes search mine for any clue, but doesn’t find anything. I shut down everything.

“My marriage is probably over. I have no ties here. I’m needed there, so…”

“Um, what? Your marriage is over? No ties?” He’s besides himself, repeating the words, feeling them as he says them. I let him process everything as I fold my arms over my chest, holding myself tightly together. I watch the range of emotion mar his face as he reaches each one of my confessions.

Then dryly, he laughs. “Preventers, huh? Yeah, thousands and thousands of miles away…Boy, when you go, you go.”

“I just,” I pause, not sure what to say. I’ve left him before, many times, in fact. I’m not sure why he’s taking this one so much to heart. “I need to go back to what I was doing before, ensuring peace between the colonies-”

“Bullshit,” he cuts in furiously, hushed and hollowed. “Peace will never come for you, will it, Heero?”

“No, I wasn’t made for peace,” I answer easily and am confused when he bends forward to put his head in his hands.

“This will never end for you, will it?” He mutters through his hands. “Was everything you’ve said just a lie or…? I thought we were working this out. I thought you would stay this time because you got everything you wanted.”

That cuts through me and I despise how much I can feel his anger and pain. Just as Relena should have asked me to stay, he should just as easily let me go. We made no promises besides sitting in these bare walls for an hour at a time. I swore no oath, nor denied him anything. He doesn’t have the right to feel this… _betrayed_.

“I’m probably getting a divorce. Relena doesn’t want me to go back to her home. I have no reason to stay-”

“Me, Heero! Fuck!” He curses, snapping his flushed face to me. “ _Me! I want you to stay, goddamn it!_”

The hurt that Relena left in me burns as those words, at his face, at his eyes that are both pleading and accusing. In a twisted way, I wish this was Relena saying these words to me, trying this hard to keep me here. And I wish I could believe him, or even reason his desperation into the equation, but I just can’t. I can’t stay just to hang around and be his “buddy”. I’m tired of being idle and underutilized. I’m tired of waking up each day to a monotony. If I don't have a space with Relena, I don't have a space here at all. I failed it. It's time to move on and away. 

“You have Hilde,” I remind him and I know this time that it’s the wrong answer, but I have no other answer.

He mumbles something to the side, so I can’t hear or read his lips.

“What?” I ask.

“ _I said_ ,” Duo grits out, “Why the hell can’t I have both?”

I don’t answer because it just is. This just is. I can’t do it. I can’t stand by. He shouldn’t be asking this of me. He shouldn’t even question it.

“Heero?” Janine prompts, quietly. “Want to answer that?”

“Because,” I hesitate before pushing forward, “I don’t want to. I can’t stay for you.”

With that finality, Duo slowly leans back and closes his eyes. Doesn’t cry, doesn’t scream or fume, he just silently accepts it. But I wonder, by the look on his face, if I’ve misjudged some things. He looks very old again, aged by his grief. I didn’t know I could make him look like that. It makes me feel wrong things. It makes me hope and ache in that hope that I know isn't real or feasible. 

Slowly, he opens his eyes and blinks, takes a steady breath. He doesn’t look at me, but says to me, “I guess I’ll be asking Quatre if he’ll be my Best Man, huh?”

“Yeah,” I agree and with that, he gets up and walks out. Briskly. Quietly. Doesn’t respond to Janine as she calls out to him. Just leaves.

“Heero,” Janine’s stabilizing voice pierces through me, “Maybe you should tell him.”

We both know what, but I shake my head.

“This is for the best and everything I said was true.”

I get up, too, pull my jacket on. Still a few minutes left on the clock.

“This will be the last time. Thank you,” I tell her and mean it.

“Before you go,” she sharply catches me, “Think about what I said about the battles of our past. We can’t win them and we can’t keep searching for their ghosts. That way isn’t sustainable-”

“It doesn’t need to be,” I tell her, “I’m not made for sustainability.”

“You weren’t made, Heero,” she says and I know the next words will be about being human, about accepting ourselves even with our vices, and how my desires and flaws are what made me.

But I nod to her and walk out of her office. In the lobby, I pay off the remaining balances, even Duo’s part. Hopefully, he’ll keep seeing her. It would be good if he did. I think I gained some insight overall and he could, too.

I get out into the cold, watching snowflakes making errant weaves around the parked cars. I’m getting ready to leave, but I see his car is still in the parking lot. The lights flash when he sees me and I hesitate, but head in his direction.

When I climb inside and shut the door, I sigh and shake the snow from my hair. Leaning into the seat, I look to him and see his eyes are wet, not his face, just the corners of his eyes.

He sniffs once and sighs. Leaning over my lap suddenly, he opens the glovebox and pulls out a flask.

“You know…I only keep this for emergencies,” he tells me, unscrewing the cap and taking a swallow. “Hilde doesn’t know that sometimes I don’t go to deliveries. I tell her I am, but sometimes I just…drive for a while and think.”

He offers and I decline. He shrugs and takes another drink.

“So…I’ve been wracking my brain about this. I mean, all this time. Ever since you left,” he says and it feels limply rehearsed, “Why…? You know, just ‘why?’. ‘Why did you just walk out?’ Overwhelmed? No, Heero Yuy doesn’t get overwhelmed. Complacency? Maybe. But I’d think that it’d lead to taking some kind of crazy mission to get out of-”

I quickly answer for him, “I cheated on her.”

There’s a pause as his eyes go wide, looking ahead, and he takes a longer swig this time. “Cheating…Yeah, I never thought about that one…”

“Yeah.” I wonder if we’re done here. I turn to open the door.

“No,” he says, pointedly and shakes his head.

Confused, I turn to him again. “What?”

“No, that’s not it,” he answers and glances at me, “I think that’s a line you’re feeding me. But there’s no way. Just _no way_ that you’d cheat on Relena.”

“I did. She…wants a separation.”

“Are you kidding me? What the hell?” He laughs, “Who the hell _could_ you want more than Relena?”

I’m quiet, so he continues, getting more agitated and I’m not sure why. “She’s _Relena Peacecraft_. She was queen of the whole goddamn world! She practically runs the world still! So, no. There’s no way. It doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been obsessed with each other since… _forever_! You’ve always-”

He cuts himself off suddenly, as if facing a hard truth, as if seeing something slip into place.

He blinks, turns to me, confused. “You always had something for her…You couldn’t kill her…”

Silent, I watch his face twist and he takes another swallow of the flask. I can smell it now, the alcohol. It stings the air between us.

“Oh my God…” He finally says, and I don’t know what he’s piecing together. “That’s what you were saying this whole time…”

Shaking his head, he whispers it, “ _You were doing penance all this time?_ That’s what this was? You…you…because of _that girl_?”

Finally, in this stillness of Duo’s car, I admit, “I love her…But not the way she wanted.”

“So,” he struggles with words, “So, then, who? Who would you…?”

“No one you know,” I tell him and that’s the truth.

He leans back, and breathes it all in. I lean back, too, beside him. The car smells like him, besides the alcohol. I can feel the warmth of his shoulder, nearly touching mine. I wonder how much longer we’ll talk, we’ll untangle my mistakes, and then I’ll walk away. Maybe for a while. Maybe for forever.

The snow continues to fall and slowly covers the windows. It feels like we’re the only ones in the world. And maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, if just for now.

“I’m just going to ask this,” he breaks the silence and his voice is shaky, “I’m going to ask because…I have a gut feeling and if I’m wrong, then we’ll just forget about it, okay? We'll just never talk about it ever again...”

Watching him, I see doubt and vulnerability tangling in his expression. He licks his lips and I realize that he’s waiting for affirmation. I nod once and he repeats the nod.

“Sometimes…” He pauses and roughly breathes, “Sometimes when we were together, back then…I would feel you watching me.”

I bristle at this, slightly, but enough that I’m sure he’s noticed. I deconstruct my defensiveness into a cool, even affect. I am so uncertain as to where this is going. I’m as nervous as he looks, but I breathe. I find that balance of breathing around my panic and dread. Just focus on that sting of air pushing through my chest. 

He bites his lip for a moment, before continuing, “I thought that maybe it meant something, but, uh, after a while, I just thought I was wrong. I thought maybe I was looking into it too much, but…”

Huffing out a breath, hands shaking slightly, he takes another sip before he says, “But maybe...I was right? So, um, I just want to ask if you if I was right and if…if you ever ever noticed me watching you back?”

His words, as I begin to realize what they mean, cut me deeper than any of Relena’s ever could. That confession is too much to hear, and I can’t even acknowledge it. Duo’s braver than I am, I realize. So much stronger than I could ever be. My body stumbles as I pull and push my air, and it throbs inside my lungs. My heart is all unnatural, pounding so hard and so fast. I can hear it so resounding and heavy in my ears, I can hear barely anything else. 

No, I never felt his eyes on me, and maybe I did that subconsciously. Maybe that had been trained into me. Maybe I didn’t want to feel them. He was supposed to mean nothing to me. He was supposed to be in my peripheral. And stay there…

“No,” I tell him and my voice is strained. “I didn’t see you.”

“Oh,” he half-laughs against his nervousness. “Well, I didn’t advertise it, so…”

There are a few moments as he works up the courage that I don’t have. He toys with the flask lid, screwing and unscrewing. He opens his mouth a few times, but not finding the right words.

Until he does.

“So, _hypothetically speaking_ …just playing around with the idea…back when we were young, when we were together, fighting…Um…Did I have a chance?”

My throat is so tight, I can barely breathe and my mouth is so dry, I can feel each breath cut through my mouth. This wasn’t meant to happen. These words weren’t supposed to be said or heard, or even felt. This doesn’t make any sense.

“ _With you_?” He clarifies. “Did I have a chance with you?”

I want to reach out and grab the flask from him, fingers touching, bring it to my mouth and drink everything it has to offer. I want to drown in it. I want to drain everything in there, to be completely full, to be completely drenched in whatever he hides from Hilde. I want to numb myself until I can’t feel anything anymore because life was never supposed to be this complicated. Life wasn’t even meant to continue after Operation Meteor. I wanted to die. I wanted to end everything before it even began.

And I hate that it didn’t end there.

“…Yes.” I tell him and feel every artery fresh and pulsating inside my body, burning at the confession I thought I would never tell, would never need to tell. That I thought he would never even want to hear.

He laughs again, but it’s choked and taut, and just collapses in his throat. His eyes water again, but he holds it in. He tries to laugh again, gets a little farther this time, but shakes his head. “What the hell? _What are we even doing_?”

I don’t have an answer, I never seem to.

“What the hell, Heero?” he asks like he’s crushed, absolutely crushed under the weight of this. “I loved you…But you had the queen of the fucking world…”

And like that, he’s admitted something that I can’t even admit now. I don’t really understand the core of my feelings for him. I can’t name it, it doesn’t have a name. It’s just there, lurking whenever he’s close, and I force it into submission. I uneasily call it friendship, as if branding it will break it.

But he’s just said it and it only feeds my uneasiness. And hope.

“Why?” He wonders desperately, “Why didn’t you…? Why didn’t it happen? If that’s what _you_ wanted and what _I_ wanted…?”

“Because it didn’t make sense,” I tell him because it didn’t and it doesn’t. I couldn't acknowledge something so base when I had so much to do in realizing her ideals. “You had Hilde and I had Relena. I needed to protect Relena. That was the best way I knew how.”

After a long pause in which he takes another long and deliberately slow drink, he pleads quietly, “Could you please just get the fuck out of my car?”

I nod and pull away from him. I open the door and drift back into the snow which instantly blinds me. After a few feet, looking back, I can’t even see his car anymore. It's like it was never there to begin with…

END OF PART 1


	20. Part 2 - Circles (The Good Ending)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero plans what his next moves are going to be, but they don't go as smooth as he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome back. I'm starting Part 2, and decided to make this the "good" ending, in case I ever wanted to go back and do an alternate ending of where I originally was going with the story (it was deemed "too sad"). Dracadancer talked me into this (both separating them and also a "good" ending), so if you like that, it's because of her. Thanks for everyone reading this story and commenting. It makes me feel less full of hate. 
> 
> Anyway, song suggestion for this chapter is "Night Sight" by Air

Wufei’s apartment is tasteful. Sparsely decorated, but one can see some fragments of his heritage in the décor. There’s some Chinese art mixed with the other furnishings that were most likely already in the apartment when he moved in.

I don’t look into everything. I let him keep his secrets where I figure they might be – computer, hamper, under the bed and in the closet. But I do scan for any notes of personal interest. I thumb though books that I can’t read because they’re in Chinese characters.

Some I can decipher through the equations and graphs, math being the universal language. Books of physics. Books of some kinds of martial arts. The Art of War itself, but in English and still left in its cellophane - perhaps a gift.

Most of them are new, but with delicately folded edges from wear. He seems the type to go back to re-read something.

I’m curious at finding a picture of him, what I imagine as much younger, in a book that I can’t decipher because it’s all text. It’s surprising to see him with glasses. I always imagined, like the rest of us, he has perfect 20/20 vision.

And one would imagine that he might have been happier then, as a child, but his face is still tight and prim. His eyes are dull and flat. His hair is down at his shoulders and the large glasses overpower his face.

I wonder if there are any pictures of me when I was younger. I’m sure there must have been a few, maybe as a means to get more funding for the gundam project or as means of simple identification, but I’m sure they've all been destroyed at this point. I’m sure once Operation Meteor was launched, everything that was before “Heero Yuy” had been destroyed. Everything I was before Heero Yuy has probably been eradicated from existence…

I sit on the couch and wait. I wasn’t invited, so I’m patient.

Immediately, he spots me as he enters, scowls deeper. “I knew something was wrong. The door seemed lighter, more accessible.”

“You should have better security, Wufei.”

A frustrated sigh crashes out of him as he flips his badge on a side table and removes his gun. “Why are you- Never mind, I don’t care. Get out.”

“I need to stay here a few days,” I answer him, “The Preventers don’t have housing available yet. I was told to stay with you.”

His face falls and annoyance washes through his demeanor. “You’re joining Preventers.”

It’s not a question but a short journey to a destination he wasn’t hoping for or expecting.

Flatly, he says, “I don’t know what is going on in your life, but it would be in your best interest to go back.”

“Is that a threat?” I bristle at the threat.

“No, it’s an inevitability,” he walks into the adjoining kitchen, pours himself water from the tap. “I don’t think it would suit you. Not the way that Relena’s… _operations_ did.”

“How’s that?” I get up, standing in the doorway. It’s a powerplay and his eyes sharpen at it. He takes a drink anyway.

“The mission is peace, but the methods aren’t always peaceful. I don’t think she would approve.”

“My marriage is over, Wufei,” I tell him.

“You’ll never be done with that woman,” he counters. “You proved that yourself. Anytime she’s in danger, you’ll go. And her, being who she is, she will be in danger. For the rest of her life…no matter how short.”

I know he’s trying to trigger a response. It works. I can feel the increase of adrenaline pulse through my muscles as they tighten with heat and fury. But I don’t respond to it.

“I can’t go back,” I tell him.

“For now. But I’m sure she’ll-”

“You know why.”

His head tilts slightly before taking another drink. “Honestly, I don’t care what the issue is. It’s your life, so I won’t stop you. But know this, I don’t want you as a partner. I don’t want you in my team. I don’t want you in my home.”

“Because…” I leave it at that.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “No… _That_ doesn’t help your case, but no. It’s because I can’t trust you to walk away from her. I can’t trust you to put orders first. Your convictions have always been questionable…even haphazard.”

Honestly, that makes me want to laugh. The irony is palpable. I don’t put orders first…when that’s always what I’ve been doing all of my life. In fact, that’s why I want to join. I want to be directed again. I want to bury myself into something until I can’t feel anything else.

“Use me in the Preventers or don’t. That doesn’t matter to me. I’m here to do whatever. You know I get the job done, questionable convictions or not.”

He sighs, puts the glass down on the counter softly. Takes a minute to mull over his reservations, and then asks, “If I let you stay…you wouldn’t…try anything, right?”

“What?”

Fumbling, he swallows and tries to find more words. Oh, _that_.

“I’m not attracted to you, Wufei.”

His face flushes, but he doesn’t say anything. Just nods once.

“Fine,” he says, “You can take the couch. For a few days. Stay out of my way.”

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

My stay with Wufei, as I go through the paperwork and the first steps of becoming an agent, is quiet and uneventful.

We share a meal together when he gets home. I tried cooking and then after realizing that he barely ate it, I started getting carryout. He ate even less, and eventually he then just took up cooking for both of us, while I cleaned up afterwards and bought the food from a list he provided.

It’s taking them longer to secure my own place, but to be honest, I don’t mind. Having someone around me hasn’t been a bad thing, especially since he’s quiet and keeps to himself as I do. It’s existing around each other and I find comfort in that.

It reminds me of when we were at the lunar base together, before Duo was captured. There’s scant small talk about politics, the work, the people, the building, the washing machine. It’s all tight and concise. I appreciate it. No chatter. No interruptions. He’s perfunctory in every action and it’s a welcomed way of life.

It’s two weeks before he asks if there have been any updates and when I tell him no, he just shrugs.

“Fine,” he says, “That’s fine.”

“You want me to talk to-”

“No, that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Okay.”

We resume eating our meal, but then he pauses again. “You wouldn’t bring anyone here, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Men,” he quietly clarifies.

“No.”

During the time I’m here, I haven’t even entertained the idea. I’m trying to re-start things, make it fresh, like everything else never happened. I’m sure there will be a time, but that time isn’t now.

“Good…”

“I understand that you’re uncomfortable with me, but I wouldn’t exploit your hospitality that way.”

I go back to eating, but he pauses. Curiously, I glance up.

The muscles of his jaw tense and relax a few times before he speaks, “I’m not uncomfortable with you.”

“You mentioned it before,” I state. I don’t really care if he is or not. I appreciate the hospitality and our quiet arrangement.

“When did I…? I never said anything to you,” he doubles down.

“At my wedding,” I explain and continue eating, “You said you never knew how to act around Quatre because you thought he was gay.”

“I…” He stops and blinks, thinking a moment. “I don’t remember that.”

“You had a few drinks.” I loosely shrug. Again, it’s not really that problematic for me.

He sets down his fork solemnly and I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing again. I wonder if I’ll have to figure out where to sleep tonight.

“I don’t…care about that,” he says carefully, “It’s true…I don’t know what to say or think. It’s surprising, Heero. I’m shocked to be honest. But…I guess I’ll have to figure that out.”

“Sure.”

“What did…” He cautiously begins to ask, “What did the others say about this whole thing?”

That’s a harder subject to broach. I try to lay out the facts, just facts, without feeling them. Like a report, just a briefing of how everything has been.

“Relena wants at least a separation. I haven’t told Trowa or Quatre. And Duo…is asking Quatre to be the best man instead.”

Frowning, his face darkens in anger. “He… _did that?_ Duo? I can’t believe that…”

“He has his reasons.”

“Why?” The anger still apparent, “Just because-”

“He has his reasons,” I reiterate, sharper and harder.

Thankfully, he gets part of a hint and drops it, but his brows are still furrowed.

We eat in silence for a while and I welcome it.

“Do you regret it?” He breaks the silence and it shoots right through my heart. I don’t know what he’s asking, if I regret telling them, if I regret exploring it, if I regret marrying her.

“It’s too late for that,” I say and take his empty plate and wash everything away in silence as he walks away and spends the rest of his night to himself.

***

A few days after, I’m abruptly taken out of the training program and they must have finally realized that I’m here. I didn’t mind raising through the ranks. I didn’t mind the formality and going through the perfunctory motions of becoming an agent. I didn’t expect any special treatment or recognition, nor do I want it.

I’m waiting in a small conference for who I assume will be Une or an assistant of hers.

But I don’t expect Zechs…Or “Preventer Wind”. Last I knew he was still on Mars, and to see him walk into the room, drops my stomach instantly. It’s been a while, but my feelings on Zechs are still conflicted.

On one hand, I do feel a strange pull or fascination with him; however, I’ve never felt the personal rivalry he seems to hold towards me. He was a man, like most others in my path, who existed to test me. I wouldn’t call them romantic inclinations, but yes, there was an air of mystery and similarity between us to which I felt, acutely, when we would fight.

However, after my marriage to Relena, and his leaving Earth for Mars, I haven’t been in contact with him. Older now, he seems to have shed some of the mystery but not the raw charisma in his presence. He doesn’t feel as dangerous, but still just as strong and seeking.

“Heero,” he calls to me and the voice is as thick and rough as before.

I catch myself calling him Zechs but readjust quickly, “Agent Wind.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he says, going to a seat at the conference table and gesturing to another. I take it and we sit together. I search his face for any clues of what this meeting is. Is this as an agent or as a brother-in-law?

“Same,” I tell him, “How’s Mars?”

“Difficult,” he admits, “Not only the terraforming, but the people there are starting to become frustrated…sometimes not seeing the bigger picture. Thankfully we have the financial backing, but the process is slow and the work is sometimes…fruitless.”

I nod, and let him settle into what this is actually about. Thankfully he doesn’t waste much time.

“I was surprised to see a notification of your joining the Preventers…and living with Wufei.”

“I’m taking a new direction with maintaining peace.”

“Does Relena know?”

“I’m sure she will soon enough,” I counter. Seems like everyone is busy with keeping tabs on me. I know Wufei wouldn’t bother, but now that Zechs is involved, I’m sure news will spread. I figured this would happen at some point, but maybe not so soon.

“I’m sure she appreciates your sacrifice to be able to maintain what she’s working towards.”

“My sacrifice?” I ask, curious, but it’s sharp.

He pauses, trying to piece something out. “To your marriage…for being so far apart.”

In that statement, it dawns on me that he doesn’t know. She hasn’t told him.

“Yeah…” I say, as aloof as possible. If she wants to keep this quiet, I’ll comply.

However, his blue eyes are fixed on me. It’s both unnerving and exhilarating. It’s like he can shed everything off of me and stare right into me, right through me. I don’t flinch, but feel that tremor in my stomach.

I had thought about him, before I knew that he was Relena’s brother. Back when he was just Zechs, a strange commander of the enemy forces who sought me out. A juxtaposition of my own self, someone with conviction and hope. He struck me as strange, different from the rest. He wanted to fight me as a means to temper his own beliefs. To me, it wasn’t as personal as it seemed to him. I didn’t see him as the rival as he saw me.

But…he also made me feel things; it wasn’t emotional, just purely physical. But then I learned he was Miliardo Peacecraft, her brother, and then my brother-in-law.

“She doesn’t know,” he concludes, pondering that.

“Yeah. She doesn’t know,” I confirm.

There’s a pause as he weighs something in his mind. “You should return to her. We can manage without you. I’ll ask Une to-”

“Unnecessary,” I cut in, “I’m going to stay.”

He clears his throat, shifts in his seat. “If I were confronting you as an agent, from one to the other, it would be different. But I’m asking you…as a _brother_ , to go back to Relena.”

I don’t know why he’s drawing this out, why he’s denying me.

“All right,” I tell him, directly, “I’ll send in my resignation…But I’m not going to go back. I’m not meant to be there. I’ll find something to direct my attentions to.”

There’s disbelief, masked of course, but it’s there on his eyes. I’m betting on this. I’m hoping he folds, reads the situation, and lets me in.

“Heero-”

“I’ll appreciate that you don’t ask me for specifics.”

His frown is disapproving and heavy. His features sharpen.

“Heero, she’s my sister,” he speaks lower than usual and I wonder if it’s from anger or disappointment. “I need to understand what’s going on.”

“As a subordinate,” I counter, “I ask what my next mission objective is. Just as an agent and nothing more.”

His cold eyes are ablaze and his nostrils flare so slightly. He’s clear to read, much clearer than when we last fought. I wonder if he felt like it made sense, too, for me to marry Relena. He seems like the type to believe in destiny, and it wouldn’t be far to think that he somehow believes that he and I are somehow interwoven. I’m sure that my marriage cemented that hope.

“I look forward to your resignation letter,” he gruffly says, glancing darkly down. Damn, I was wrong.

“I’ll give it to you by noon today,” I reply neutrally. I won’t give anything away, especially since she didn’t tell him, so he doesn’t know the details. I’ll figure something else out. I always do.

“Why, Heero?” He finally asks what I’ve been trying to stop him from asking.

I get up and move towards the door, quietly answering, “It wasn’t meant to be.”


	21. Rumination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero makes his next plans, but not before having a moment with Wufei and remembering more about his past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wufei's kinda a dick, but...he's trying, ppl. He is!
> 
> Next chapter we find out some important info, so stay tuned. 
> 
> Chapter song suggestion: Mirror Talk by Begonia

“So, that’s it?” Wufei asks as I gather my small belongings.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

He lets out a huff and crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame. “You could appeal his decision.”

“No, it wouldn’t matter.”

“You could go to Une, talk to her directly.”

I glace back, meet his eyes. He’s always been guarded, even more than me. It’s hard to read anything.

“For someone who didn’t even want me here, you’re sure invested in my staying.”

Those were the wrong words. He visibly seethes.

“Do what you want, Yuy,” he snaps and leaves me to my thoughts.

That’s been the motto for the past few months. What I want…

But I keep making the wrong decisions, choosing the wrong words. I think again about that day that I met Dr. J and when I said yes. I can’t remember how old I was or how old I was supposed to be. Lowe changed my age many times when we were undercover, and I was playing as his son. He treated me much kinder when I was playing his son, when we were in front of people. He gave me candies. He gave me attention and would touch my head the way I saw fathers touch their sons. But I knew it was an act, and that cut right through everything.

Dr. J had not been playful or kind when he asked me, sitting in a darkened alley, if I wanted to pilot the gundam.

I try to understand, as I’m folding my clothes into a small suitcase, why I had said yes. Maybe I felt needed, or wanted at that moment. I had lived on my own for months before then. I was afraid of the orphanages, at their stationary and condescending nature. I was afraid that someone would take me home and suddenly, that touch on the head would be real for them, but not for me. It would never be real to me, because people weren’t real to me. Or maybe I wasn’t meant to be real with.

J treated me as an experiment, as little better than an animal, and I respected that. I needed that.

I stop folding. I look down at my suitcase. I can hear Wufei in the kitchen, cooking something, maybe only for himself. I breathe in and think about Relena. I miss her. She was real with me, but I wasn’t reciprocating, maybe I never would have.

I think I’m beginning to see why she was upset.

She was that part of life I had to act through. She was the part I couldn’t _and can’t_ just accept for myself. I can’t accept that easy, open life where someone can touch me and have it truly mean something. Her love felt like his pat on the head, even though she didn’t mean it. It didn't feel real. It’s like I couldn’t even feel it.

I don’t know why, but that makes me sad.

It’s a part of life that I might never have, or maybe even want, from others. Or maybe…I was starting to want it, but couldn’t keep acting.

Putting my suitcase by the door, I join Wufei in the kitchen. He’s cooking some kind of stir fry in a large wok. It’s enough for two and I let out a breath that I just realized I was holding. It’ll be good to go with a full stomach. He sees me, then looks back down.

“What do you want out of life, Wufei?” I ask him, curious of what he sees ahead.

He scowls, as if the question is offensive. “Getting philosophical before you leave?”

“Just curious.”

There are a few strands of hair loosened from his ponytail that he brushes back from his face with his shoulder. He works a few more seconds before lowering his scowl.

“I wonder…” He says, “For the time being, I'm just taking each day as it comes.”

This surprises me. He always seemed to be the forward-thinker, like he’s had his own life planned out for years. I voice this and he his expression softens slightly. He looks at me again.

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?” It sounds less like a question and more of a musing.

Pursing his lips from his frown, he tells me, “From a young age my life had been planned. Where I would go to school. The type of martial art I would be trained in. Where I would live. Who I would marry. Every aspect of my life had been planned, even before I was born.”

I hadn’t realized. It seems so other-worldly to have another’s life so opposite of my own. No one had cared enough for these precise directives for me. Where I had been a burden, Wufei’s life had been celebrated. Destined. It’s interesting. Was the gundam part of the plans? Had he been born into it, as an inheritance? The concept is so foreign.

“That’s amazing,” I tell him and receive an odd look.

“Well,” he says, after a moment, back to the wok and dividing the food onto two plates. “Everything changed when my colony sacrificed themselves…for me.”

He hands me a plate, which I take, but I’m even more curious. We’ve never talked like this. I hadn’t known about the colony. I knew something about Treize. I knew there was sorrow and self-hatred. I knew there were questions and doubt. But I didn’t know this.

It reminds me of when Duo talked about the church and the deaths. The small details that burned in his mind. The blame he felt for leaving them and the moment he watched the nun that cared for him slowly die. How he stayed the night with the body. How he never found the priest's remains and how much that still haunted him, without that moment of closure.

I remember sitting, still and silent, absorbing the moment as his nervous laughter turned into suppressed tears, which eventually turned into real tears. I sat and sunk into his voice, his recollections of loss, feeling myself detach more and more. That was when I realized that I never mourned Odin Lowe. I never felt the need to.

I had just walked away from his body, trying to figure out the next thing.

This loss isn’t something I can imagine or fully realize, and watching Wufei in this small and tidy kitchen, setting a meal for me, I wish I could do or say something. For him. For me. For some way to connect us.

I ask, “During the war or..?”

“During,” he answers, quietly, pushing the wok into the sink. He motions to the table and we sit.

“Everyone died?” I ask as I begin to eat.

“Everyone died,” he confirms and also starts eating.

We’re silent for a few minutes, soaking in the memories and enjoying his simple but good cooking.

“So no more plans,” I conclude for him.

“Yes,” he answers thoughtfully, “No more plans.”

I nod and leave him be, no further questions. However, he surprises me with his own shy curiosity.

“Relena…” He starts, turning his glass around, watching the water move in slow, lazy circles against the rim. “Was she planned? For you, I mean?”

“Not in so many words,” I frown. “It just made sense.”

“How so?” He wonders.

“She was there in beginning. She was always finding me, pushing my limits. And she began to be…I guess in ways, my opposite. The more I fought, the more she sought total pacifism. She was my antithesis. She was strong…stronger than me in her beliefs than I was in mine. I began to realize that instead of her being an obstacle or hindrance, I was the obstacle for _her_.”

He is quiet. His eyes are soft and careful as he listens. I realize it’s the first time that I’ve had the chance to fully study his features and face. They’re softer than I remember. His cheeks are wide and curve at a gentle incline. His eyes are dark and glossy, but quietly seeking and clear. His fingers are long and slim. I think this is the first time that he;s allowed me to focus on him, openly and unguarded. I appreciate it. 

I complete my thought, “So, I eliminated myself as the obstacle. And then I stayed by her side. It made sense.”

“I think you give the woman too much credit,” he lightly says.

“You don’t give her enough, Wufei. That was your problem.”

I expect him to disagree with my insight, but he doesn’t. He stays relaxed and continues to ruminate.

“Did you love her?” His question nearly knocks me down. It’s such a level of sincerity and romanticism I would have never pegged Wufei for.

“I do, but…”

“I don’t know if I loved my wife,” he sets down his water cup, “I didn’t even really know her. But…”

I allow him the silence and stillness to either find the words or accept them.

“But I miss her,” he concludes softly.

The moment between us is broken, sharply, by his phone ringing. He sighs at the noise and glances at it. His expression is dark and he looks to me before he answers it.

“Yes, Duo,” his answer is clipped as he picks up. “What do you need?”

My body freezes a moment. I didn’t expect him to call. Especially Wufei.

His narrowing eyes, Wufei looks at me as he listens. The shield is up again. He’s aloof again, as if our talk never happened. “Yes, Duo. He was here.”

I grit my teeth, but Wufei’s eyes are still on me when he says, “No, he’s already left…No, I have no idea to where.”

***

I pick up my suitcase and thank him, briskly. He nods and there’s a small little smile that creases his heavy lips.

“You should get better at cooking, especially while being alone.”

“You’re probably right about that.”

“Take care, Heero.”

I nod and tell him before I go, “I’m doing that, too. Taking every day as it comes…I feel like I’ve been doing that since before I can remember. But…it’s harder now.”

Carefully, he nods once. “Maybe it’s the best we can do, especially when things aren’t as they should be.”

“Maybe.”

I walk out the door and hear the clicks of the locks being reset. Taking a deep breath, I leave his building and call a taxi.

As I wait, I call the only number I have in my phone. After a few rings, he picks up, sounding tired.

“I could look it up or you could give it to me,” I tell him.

“What?” Trowa asks, groggily.

“Your address.”


	22. Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero questions the meaning of choice and contemplates if his choices actually can matter. He also finds out surprising news as he makes his way to Trowa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a refresher: *In Episode Zero, in April of AC195 (which was probably the longest year in history), J told hero about The Barton Foundation's request to assassinate Relena's dad and gave him the choice of saving, killing, or ignoring the whole thing. And some, I dunno, *hours* later (because seriously they fit all of this into one year omfg sghfkjdvghdjhgf??) J asked him the same question with Op Met.
> 
> Anyway, here's a chapter. FYI - I'm also gonna write a companion piece to this with Hilde and Duo for the Gundam Wing White Day challenge thing, but ya'll have to wait until March 14th. 
> 
> Song suggestion for this chapter: Softens by Wet

It’s three weeks before I’m able to reach Trowa, who’s almost on the other side of the sun. First it was hard to secure a shuttle and we had to dock a few days due to the risk of proton exposure from faulty solar storm shields. I don’t mind, though. It gives me time to think. It gives me solace. Just being in space again is nostalgic. I forgot when was the last time I was in space. I think just before my marriage, she had some appointment. 

There are things about it I've missed. Staring into the vast abyss, watching it stretch for forever. The cold that only space can have, that starts at your feet and your head and crawl inwards. The cold is different on Earth, more fickle, while in space, it's like a constant hum. That's another thing - I missed the sounds of space. The buzzes and hums that shake right into your head and chest. Some people can't stand it, especially in lower-class shuttles like this, but I welcome it. It's chaos and static, it's...beautiful, although I rarely use that word. But I don't know how else to explain it.

While I’m floating in the middle of nowhere with the other passengers, I check my messages. Thankfully there's not much, but there is a lengthy letter from Quatre that, eventually, I read after a few days.

_Heero,_

_I’m not sure if you’ll check this. It’s been so long since you’ve used this account, but I thought I’d try._

_Of course I’m still concerned. You haven’t given me any other reason to feel this otherwise, although I know that the nomadic lifestyle is very much yours. Sometimes that would drive me crazy when we first came to Earth together. To know that you would leave to go fight in the small skirmishes without any real tipping of scales in favor of the colonies. It was like you just had to get away and I had to let you. It's hard for me to be a nomad, especially these days.  
_

_But I’m hoping that this is one of those times when you need to fight smaller battles to clear your head._

_I wonder – do you think about the wars? I’m sure, but maybe you’ve moved past some of it. You always seemed the confident one, especially compared to me. It’s strange for me now, at this moment, to be surrounded by executives, safely, in a high-rise hotel conference room and then have something trigger a memory. Sometimes it’s a sound, or a smell, and I’ll be the anxious boy trying to prove myself all over again._

_I still have nightmares sometimes, though. Usually in space. Usually alone._

_That’s one thing you and I never talked about – the reasons why we defied the original plans, or even why we fought in the first place. That's been on my mind a lot lately. I wonder why that is. There were times I've talked with Duo about it, even during the war when we were laying low in the Middle East, and there’s been times that I have with Trowa, now that the war is over. But, strangely, you and I didn’t dive into that. I think that, during the war, I was sometimes nervous of you. I didn’t want to be dismissed by you. I wanted you to ally with me and I felt that would be hard enough, given our different methods and personalities._

_In Sanc, I wanted to talk to you, but I felt too scared to hear what you would say. I kept wanting you to blame me, or kill me, or both, but one day I knew neither would come. It would have been easier if you had, but now I’m grateful that you didn’t. I just wanted to hear my own failures without actually facing them. Instead, I wish I could have opened up to you more and connected. I feel like you and I could have learned from each other. I still feel like that.  
_

_I hope we can talk about this in the future. The older I become (I know, I know, I’m still young), the more I wonder about us, all of us. To be honest, even in the company of others who have survived the war, I feel like I’m missing something. It’s like being alone in a crowd. You can feel yourself stick out like a root, out of place and on shaky ground._

_Anyway, maybe I’m rambling into the void, but I hope that you contact me soon. I have some news that I need to tell you. It’s not an emergency, but it’s time sensitive._

_Be well._

_-Q_

I don’t respond right away. I’m about three days out from Trowa when the ship docks at another colony to drop people off and refuel.

I have a twelve-hour layover, so after I get a fresh meal, I find a video booth to call him. I make sure I look adequate enough that doesn’t warrant any further “concern”.

He doesn’t pick up the first time or second, so I go for a walk and find a small local park. Sitting on a bench, I watch a man with his two daughters order ice cream from a cart vendor.

“Do you want chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?” The man, probably in his thirties, asks the girls.

They make little clamors, small and girlish noises, before deciding.

The question suddenly makes me think of Dr. J.

 _Strawberry, chocolate, or vanilla_. Even though they’re different flavors, it’s the same conclusion. I remember feeling that when he gave me the choice, twice, when he was still alive. It was always disguised as a choice, even when the outcome would always be the same…

I was always given choices, but without actually given choices. It was always a test. It was never genuine. Kill, protect, or ignore. It was the same with Relena’s father*, although I never told her about that, about how we had met earlier than Operation Meteor. She never asked and I never said anything.

After the family leaves, I walk up casually. The older vendor smiles widely to me, just another customer. “Hello, sir! What’ll be? Vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry?”

Circles of decisions that don’t make much difference, cycling over and over again in our lives. An ouroboros motion, like war, like life itself, fading into history and the universe itself. To which most would wonder what's the point? What's the point of the flavors, the ice cream, the vendor? Would my decision affect anything? Why are we compelled to make them if they are all just futile? Years from now, the snake will inch further, biting more, starting another war, another time of peace, another war, another time of peace. Without or without me. I and my decision in this moment are utterly meaningless. 

But in this moment, maybe that’s what we, as finite beings, are meant to focus on. Maybe this choice is what matters most, when so insignificant. Maybe that’s what Trowa was trying to say earlier. Our small choices being recycled in our lives, and enjoying their familiarity and how they’re meant to make us feel. Maybe my purpose isn't necessarily to make them, but to recognize them and accept them as nothing else. It didn't matter if I saved, killed, or ignored Relena's father - my life would continue to be intertwined with hers, regardless. It didn't matter the choice of Operation Meteor - my life would still be impacted by the others and their decisions, their useless and intricate decisions.

The decision isn't what makes the desire, it's the desire that makes the decision. And maybe it's the desire that makes us palliate our shameful limitations and ephemeral existence. Maybe it's our desire that makes the circular ouroboros of war and peace, and life and death, worth something in the end. Maybe that's what makes these cycles maddeningly infinite and comically beautiful... 

With a clean, clear recycled breath of the colony, I make my useless decision, but acknowledge its purpose in my life.

***

Quatre picks up now. Sees me with the remaining ice cream as I finish it and laughs, a full roaring laugh. 

“Heero,” he breathes out, wiping the joyful tears from his face, “You never cease to surprise.”

“I saw your letter.”

“Oh,” his smile gets lop-sided. “I wish I could blame alcohol on that, but instead I’ll blame sleep deprivation. It was a bit of a rambling mess.”

I smirk, but don’t disagree.

“I guess…I just wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, then it was a success.”

“Yes,” he agrees suddenly, as if just realizing, “Yes, that’s true.”

“I think about it, too,” I tell him, “Sometimes. About Sanc. About staying with you.”

His face flushes a shade, “Oh…yes…that was a particularly difficult time in my life. I was glad to share my time with you.”

“I remember your song. The one you played on the piano.”

“Oh,” he says, warmly but shyly, “Yes, it brought me so much comfort. I wish that I had the time to keep playing. I’m so out of practice. I even downsized. I only have an upright in my apartment. The grand piano was a gift from some sponsors, anyway. It held no sentimental value.”

“I’m glad you still have something, though.”

“Yes, neglected but there. I haven’t downsized to a Casio yet,” he jokes, but I don’t know what that means.

After a beat of silence, his smile is refreshed on his face, “It’s just so good to see you.”

“You, too,” I pull out of my mouth. It’s not that it isn’t good to see him, it’s just difficult to acknowledge.

He accepts another pause before he confesses, “I know I’m supposed to ask…But I’m afraid that you’d just end the call, so…”

“Depends on what’s said.”

His eyes trace the bottom of the screen. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

“You said you had news. I suspect you found out about Duo’s change of plans.”

His eyes cloud with astonishment. “You know?”

“He told me…before I left.”

Quatre sighs and shakes his head. “I just someone would tell me something. I know I shouldn’t pry. It just feels so fractured. He won’t say why. You won’t say why. Heero, I even called Hilde and Relena, but no one will let me in.”

“It’s not about being let in, it’s just…I don’t want to dwell in it.”

His eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?”

“There’s nothing I want to divulge.”

“So, he didn’t tell you why?”

It’s my turn for confusion. “It’s just better if you did it than me. He and I-”

Quatre’s look cut me off before his words do. “What are you talking about? I don’t have anything to do with this.”

“Best man?” I ask, finding more confusion that’s not as gentle.

His eyes go wide. “Heero, what _are_ you talking about? He’s called off the wedding.”

“What?” I ask much louder than I should have, but I’m beside myself.

“That’s the news,” he explains, “He’s called off the wedding and won’t say why.”

I’m glad I’m sitting. The seat feels like it’s spinning. I lean back.

“So,” Quatre quietly continues, “So…I have a thought that this might have something to do with… _you_?”

Shaking my head, I don’t even know what to say.

“Quatre, I need to go.”

Desperately, he sighs, “Heero.”

“Sorry, Quatre.”

I cut the call. This…this is too much right now.

***

Trowa is still with the circus, maybe will be for life as long as it stays afloat. He has his own trailer now, but I notice he parks it close to Cathy’s. It takes about thirty minutes of soft pleasantries between some of the crew that remember me when I was injured, and Cathy with her gentle questions and genuine joy at seeing me again. But after all that, we’re able to get into his trailer, and I set my bag on a worn couch awkwardly set to the side where a second bed would usually be. It doesn’t matter to me where I sleep. I’ve slept in alleys, in the poshest boarding schools, in trash bins and loose hammocks. I appreciate what I’m given.

Glancing around, I see a minuscule kitchenette, a fold-down table with folding chairs, a shower/toilet compartment, and a small bed at the head of the trailer. Cozy doesn’t even describe it, but I see little knickknacks lined up on the counters. I see pictures, many pictures, of clowns and strongmen, of Cathy, of Trowa and the lions, and, finally, of us – the gundam pilots.

“Sorry for the-” He starts to apologize but I cut him off.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I just need some time to think through things.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad you took me up on my offer.”

“Yeah…”

There’s silence and it’s abrupt and awkward, but he doesn’t push anything.

“If you ever need privacy, let me know.”

“Sure,” he says, a touch of curiosity to it.

“You know, for your girlfriend. I heard about that a while ago.”

He smiles ruefully, “Oh, yeah. Well, she actually left the circus…she doesn’t really see me much these days.”

“Oh,” is all I say. I want to apologize, too, but I don’t want to apologize for something not working out right now. I have my own things not working out.

It’s strange to be here, actually, now that I am here. I ask myself, ‘Now what?’ It seemed like an exodus to get here, but I’ve gained nothing along the way and this new, up-to-date colony seems hardly the mecca of my pilgrimage. For some reason, I thought I would have found an epiphany hiding in the edges of my mind before getting here, but there’s nothing to say for it.

I stand here, still awkward and fumbling.

“You want to go out for dinner?” He invites me, “The nightlife here is pretty active.”

“Sure, if just the two of us.”

He chuckles lowly and shakes his head. “Yeah, just us. I think we need to catch up on a few things.”

“Sure.”

“How about you get settled in and I’ll see to feeding the lions?”

“You don’t want an extra pair of hands? I came here to work, too.”

He smiles, “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

“For tonight…” He pauses, weighing something in his mind, carefully ad slowly, before continuing. “You should dress in something clean.”

“Trowa?” I question.

His smile reappears and it’s slight.

“Just trust me on this.”


	23. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trowa and Heero connect over an honest and vulnerable confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song suggestion: Love is an Art by Vanessa Carlton
> 
> I like Trowa; I'm glad to see him in the next couple chapters <3

“It’s not far, so we’ll just walk,” he tells me at night, later than I thought, around 2100.

I nod in response and we make our way.

“Get here fine?”

“Yeah.”

“Still going through everything?”

I sigh, even though I knew it was coming.

“Yeah.”

“Still figuring the next steps?”

“Yeah.”

He lets the silence weave through us for a little while. It’s comfortable enough, as it usually is with Trowa. In fact, I’m the one to speak next.

“How long are they going to stay on this colony?”

“Hmm, maybe another 2 months. We don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

“And you enjoy it?”

His smile is tender when he responds, “I do. It…actually reminds me a little of the mercenaries I grew up with. There’s a sense of everyone working together. The moving around, too. It’s somehow nostalgic.”

“So that’s how you learned how to fight?”

“Yeah. I just remember them in my earliest memories…well, from what I can remember. I still have trouble sometimes.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not really, or at least not anymore.”

“I see.”

There’s a pause before I have the urge to say something. It reminds me the time that Duo needed me to react and I couldn’t. I try to push myself into this important thing I should say.

“About that…thanks for taking the shot for me.”

His face is placid, unreadable, but his eyes relax and seem warmer.

“I didn’t mind. I thought that it would kill two birds with one stone.”

“How so?”

There’s a careful smirk on his lips as we continue our slow walk towards wherever we’re going.

“I wanted to break Quatre out of it and…I wanted to prove to you that we really were fighting on the same side. That I wasn’t in Oz for Oz; my mission hadn’t changed.”

“But I knew that already,” I tell him.

“I wanted to erase any doubt.”

“Well, you did.”

“I’m still fighting on the same side,” he adds and I’m not sure the connection, so he continues, “Whatever you’re going through…”

“I’m tired of thinking about it,” I honestly tell him and wonder if I’m awful for even thinking that. I was in the wrong, I screwed everything up, but I’m exhausted by the spiral of doubt and blame. I just want to move past it, or at least set it aside for a while.

We turn the corner and there’s a bar that has a steady swarm of activity. I think we’re going to pass it, but Trowa begins to walks towards it.

Wait, this is familiar. This is…

I see a rainbow flag near the door, new and unfettered by the circulated wind of the colony. My stomach clamps tightly.

“Trowa…” I warn, confused.

“They have a grill, too. Burgers and beer, that kind of thing.”

My heart and mind race each other. _He knows._ He must know. Was it Relena or Wufei? No, they wouldn’t say anything. Or Wufei called Trowa when I was about to leave? That’s not typical. That’s not who he is. Then Relena…?

He keeps walking, but I stop. After a few paces, he turns back. He just watches me, with a faint gleam of interest.

“I’m not going in there,” I tell him.

“Why? The burgers and mozzarella sticks are actually good, especially for a colony.”

“You…” I stop myself because I’m about to say, ‘you know why’, but then I realize that he was waiting for my reaction for…what? Confirmation? Approval?

Suddenly, he looks down, hand in his hair, and pushes a hand in his jeans. It's a nervous gesture. I realize now that he looks good. New jeans and smooth, unwrinkled shirt. He cleaned up for this. For…this?

I voice my concerns, “Trowa, what the hell is this?”

“I come here sometimes,” he says quietly, “The food is good, sometimes they have shows or charity nights, and the people are nice. Cathy and me actually did a set of her knife-throwing here for one of their charity nights a few weeks ago.”

I have no idea what I’m supposed to say.

“So, you can come and have a burger with me…or not. But I like this place and I thought I’d show it to you," he carefully explains.

“A gay bar?” I ask flatly.

He nods, affirming, “Yeah, a gay bar.”

I’m frustrated at the curving around it, so I just ask, “You’re gay?”

His eyes close slowly, he’s either thinking or getting pissed, it’s hard to tell.

“No,” he admits, “But sometimes I prefer to be with other men.”

“At a gay bar?”

“Yeah.” And then he pushes a little further, “And sometimes in my trailer.”

With everything going on, it’s just another chaotic element on top of everything else. I sigh because this is the time that I have to make a choice. Trowa waits patiently. Someone calls out to him with familiarity, but he waves him away, continuing to focus on me.

“We can go somewhere else,” he finally says.

“Trowa,” I hesitate, “I can’t go there.”

To go inside isn’t something I can do with a friend, it’s a dark and ugly truth. It’s not an event for us to share. It’s solitary. It’s dark. It’s fast and forgettable.

“Okay,” he says, but there’s a tinge of disappointment.

“Why?” I ask as we walk the other direction.

“I already told you, I just wanted to show it to you.”

We’re getting nowhere, so I push more.

“Wufei?”

His glance is part amused and part inquiring. “Wufei? No, I’ve never been with Wufei.”

That’s not what I meant at all.

“Then…” I delay to catch my thoughts, “ _How_?”

“A feeling, I guess.”

“A _feeling_?” I ask and the word sounds so horrible vague. Even purposefully vague.

“Just a feeling…”

“So, you were testing me?”

“Not as much as answering something for you.”

“Answering what?”

“If you were alone,” he answers quietly, “The answer is no.”

My mind is trying to keep up, trying to sort through everything. I retrace my steps mentally, his words, his gestures. It’s still unbelievable in a way. I still don’t believe him.

If he’s being honest, and actually saying what I think he’s saying, I don’t even know how to respond.

So, I don’t. I shut down. I keep walking, just as he walks beside me.

We walk together in a deafening silence.

***

“Here’s the place,” he says when we approach a small Italian dive. “It’s cheap, but good.”

“Hm,” I utter as we walk into the cramped restaurant. It obviously used to be a Chinese restaurant, some painted decals of Hanzi are still clinging on the walls. But it smells like bread and pasta and is welcoming.

We’re about the only ones in here, apart from a small family and a few people on obvious dates. He knows the place, though, comfortably. He walks to a table with purpose and familiarity, and I follow.

We order and he carefully peels the paper of the straw into small pieces. I have a feeling there’s going to be a talk. A long, painful talk between us. I weigh my options of either encouraging it or dismissing it. However, he was the one phone number I kept, and I’m here on his acceptance, so I feel like I should participate. At least try to.

“Was it that?” He asks. I assume he means the chaos I’ve been living.

“Maybe,” I respond. I don’t have anything to tear like him, but I also don’t want to copy his nervous gesture. I wish we were doing something during this, like working on the gundams. Something to fill my hands so my mind could wander into his conversation with more ease.

Instead, secretly, I tense and relax the toes in my shoes, focusing on the muscles and bones there. I imagine each one flexing and unflexing. The _flexor hallucis brevis_ pulling against my big toe. Then tensing the _adductor hallucis_ at my toes. I imagine my bones, one by one, slowly connecting to the muscles.

This is what they taught me, too, during interrogations. Connecting, disconnecting, and reconnecting the body. I usually start at the feet.

“So Relena…?” He asks, plainly.

Breathing and pulling, feeling everything connect/disconnect. Muscles breaking and forming back together.

“She wants a separation for now…then…I don’t know.”

“I see.”

Our drinks are refilled and we stop our conversation until the waitress retreats.

“Your plans for now?” He starts the conversation again.

“I’m here for now,” I tell him blandly, “Zechs blackballed me from the Preventors.”

“Not a surprise,” he states and that causes me to pause.

“How so?”

He quirks a brow. “It’s his sister.”

“I’d be a good agent, though.”

With a slight smile, he says, “But it’s his _sister_.”

“I don’t get that.”

Apparently that’s funny because his smile grows, “No, I suppose you don’t.”

Our meals arrive and we eat in peace for a while before I’m the one to cut through the awkwardness.

“What was that about?”

“The club? They have good food and cheap drinks.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It’s just like I said, Heero.”

“And you go there?”

“Sometimes.”

“And Cathy knows?” My line of questioning sounds harsher than I mean, but he takes it all in stride.

“Yes, Cathy knows. Cathy-” He stops short and then reiterates, “Yes, Cathy knows.”

“From when?”

He pauses and glances up from his overcooked lasagna, “From when what?”

“When did you…?” I don’t even know what I’m asking. From when did he feel that? When did he act on that? When did he become so damned unfettered about it?

“From always? I guess…? That’s not a question I really think about because it’s just who I am.”

“Even during the war?”

He smiles again, obviously amused by my questions and I don’t know what that means.

“Yes, even during the war.”

“With Quatre?”

That causes the smile to drop instantly and I can see his fingers tense around his fork. I didn’t mean it as anything other than casual. It’s just that they are close, were always close, and maybe that was why.

“No,” he quietly answers, “Not with Quatre. Not with any of the pilots.”

“But someone else?”

I can tell the amusement is gone and the questions are hitting harder. I don’t mean them to be so direct. I just suddenly am aware of him now, more than I ever have before. It’s like opening a compartment and finding it’s much deeper and more intricate than I would have thought. There’s so much in there, there’s so much I don’t know.

“Yes,” he hesitates, “With others….but that was different.”

“How?”

He’s quieter now, looks darker, more reserved. Maybe I keep striking the same nerve, but he hasn’t lashed out yet. He hasn’t shut down yet. And I have so many questions.

“It was for the mission.”

“When?”

He sighs and I can see that he’s weighing the options of this talk now. How far is too far? How much can he trust me or himself to really get into all of this, everything we keep hidden from ourselves and others? Is it worth trusting me?

“I needed to prove my loyalty to Oz, so I slept with Une. A few times. It’s wasn’t a big deal.”

That…that gives me pause. A slow and winding pause as I try to imagine them together.

“While I was captured?” I ask.

“Yeah, I figured it would give me leverage so that I could request you to pilot the Mercurius…”

I’m the one to look down, at the congealing grease on my pizza, remembering that time back then.

“Did you do that to save me?” I ask because it’s sounding like an old story now, Trowa constantly saving me and me not even realizing him doing it. It’s a bit uncomfortable, now that my eyes are open to it. It feels invasive.

“I did it to facilitate the mission. You were…a secondary motive.”

“Why…” I don’t have the words. I don’t have the understanding or rationale to piece this together. I don’t understand it. I just don’t understand why Trowa, again and again, would continue to save me. Continue to throw himself in the line of fire, and expose himself for destruction – for me.

There _can_ be only one reason…

“Do you… _want_ me?” I wonder in both trepidation and awe. Is this some kind of love, or lust? Infatuation?

“Don’t flatter yourself, Yuy,” he quickly cuts back with unmasked frustration, “No, that’s not-”

He sighs and tilts his head back, crossing his arms. “Like I’ve said before, I saw myself in you. I felt connected to you. Losing you…I was afraid that I would be losing someone important. Maybe even like losing a part of myself. You were the bolder one between us. I thought if you’re going to be the one to push the boundaries, I should be the one to clean up. To keep a watchful eye on you.”

“A watchful eye?”

“Yes,” he says and the cold demeanor melts again and he looks at me and, in his eyes there’s a warmth that I seldom ever see, “Like a friend…I guess like a brother.”

And that makes me feel a little like melting, too.


	24. Asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heero connects with Quatre during his stay with with Trowa, and while Trowa questions him on his ideals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! There's some fun things ahead :) All the dramas, of course.
> 
> But in the meanwhile, some connections between the characters. 
> 
> Song suggestion for this chapter: "Give Up" by Low Roar

“No, there’s been no changes recently, he’s-” Trowa stops quickly when I enter the trailer, on the phone, and almost looks embarrassed. I sigh. He does, too, and gives a minimal shrug.

‘Who is it? Quatre?’ I mouth.

He exhales in a mirthful silence, a small smile pocketed on his lips. I’m not surprised.

But _he_ is when I reach my hand out for the phone. His eyebrows quirk slightly and I nod. I’ve been meaning to call Quatre back anyway.

“Hang on,” he tells the phone and hands the receiver over.

“Quatre,” I say into the hiss of thousands of miles.

“Hi Heero,” he sounds sheepish, two children caught in the act.

“What’s going on?” I ask, and it’s not colloquial, it’s down to the base – _what is going on_. What, if anything, has changed from the last time we spoke.

“Well…About the wedding? I very briefly spoke to Duo and he was pretty tight-lipped about it. He just said that he was going through something and needed some time. When I asked what that meant, like if it’s just postponed, he just said, ‘Eh, we’ll see,’ and then changed the conversation.”

It is strange on this end of things. I’ve never been one for gossip, nor talking really about anyone so exclusively, but he’s been on my mind. Just like she has…

“And Relena?”

“I haven’t heard from her much, to be honest. It seems like she’s busy lately. I think…maybe pushing herself into working,” he admits, “I would call Hilde, but I don’t feel comfortable since we’re not very close.”

I feel guilty for not even thinking about Hilde, but it passes quickly.

“Can you do me a favor?” I ask him.

“Sure, of course. Anything.”

“Meet with Relena.”

I can hear the hesitation as he asks, “And what am I supposed to ask her?”

What do I want him to ask her? If she forgives me? If I could come back? If she can talk some sense into Zechs? If she’s had enough space? If she’s safe? If we’re over?

I conclude, “Don’t ask her anything…Just see how she’s doing. You’re good at that.”

“I…can,” he slowly agrees before adding, “But I want some information in return.”

I hold back a sigh or any kind of outward response. I glance up to Trowa, who is watching this exchange, leaning against the wall. I motion my head towards the door. Stiffly, he uncrosses his arms and heads outside. This will be easier if I’m alone.

“What do you want?” I ask directly.

“Do you know why this is going on, with Duo?”

“Probably.”

“Does it have something to do with…what’s happened to you and Relena?”

“Probably.”

There’s silence as he tries to work through my answers. I allow it, but it’s eating through Trowa’s phone line.

“Did you sleep with Hilde?”

I almost laugh. I almost let myself laugh. Because I didn’t expect that coming.

“No.”

“Then…Duo?”

That catches me. I can feel that tightness in my chest. I choose to ignore it.

“Why would you say that?”

“Oh…” He says, quietly, and I feel like I’ve shown my hand.

“No,” I say, trying to correct it.

There’s a long, weary sigh from the other end, and I prepare for whatever is coming. Quatre is smart, clever, knows people, and I know that he knows. I made an error. _He knows now._ Maybe not everything, but he knows enough.

And that static hisses louder than I ever heard before as I wait for his judgement…

“When I was a little boy,” he finally says, softly, “I remember that I was particularly fond of one of my sisters’ dolls. She was beautiful, had a porcelain face and soft blonde hair. I thought that she probably looked like what my mother looked like before I knew-…Never mind."

“Any way, for months, I would carry that doll around with me _everywhere_ and my sisters and tutors thought it was very cute. They never said anything about it, not negatively. They would let me bring it to supper and let me sleep with it. I felt a connection to it and they never denied me that."

“But I remember one day, my father had business in another colony and, for whatever reason, he brought me along. As we were about to go, I had this doll with me, and I remember him firmly taking it out of my hands and placing it somewhere that I couldn’t reach. I couldn’t understand why, obviously, and I began to cry for it.”

He takes a breath and gravely says, “Heero, I will never forget the words he said to me. He said, ‘There are things that you think are right and fine, but others won’t understand. You can’t bring the doll with you because others won’t accept it. Only here, at home, with us, you can play with her.’

“I learned his lesson quickly: I could only love her behind the gates and walls and closed doors of my own home. I was to be shamed by bringing her into the ‘outside world’. His lesson was that I would only be accepted by those who knew me and I was an outsider to others.”

He pauses a moment and I’m still trying to connect his story with what’s going on.

“But the fact was that he didn’t give me the chance or the option to face that. I couldn’t realize for myself what I wanted and what I was willing to risk. He took that from me.”

After a silence, I admit, “I don’t understand.”

There’s a slight chuckle at the other end and only Quatre can make me not feel inept for missing the point. It’s like it’s not my fault, but some kind of cosmic joke that’s not connecting our thoughts. Some trickster at play…

“I want you to be able to walk outside with whatever hope or desire you have, and be able to let go of the shame and the guilt for keeping it locked away for so many years. I want you to make that choice and realize that you are more important than what others perceive you as."

“We are all imperfect beings with complicated histories and so many ghosts in our hearts - _all of us_. To be honest and authentic has been denied from us for a long while. We’ve set it aside to be able to fight for others, for dreams and hopes bigger than ourselves. But it’s not selfish or shameful to be honest and open, even--or especially when-- we make mistakes."

“We need to let go of our past insecurities, our past battles. And of what was expected of us. We need to learn who we are and accept it, even under the scrutiny and derision of others because we’ve earned that dignity.”

“Have you been seeing a therapist?” I ask because that’s part of what Janine said, almost verbatim.

“No,” he admits with a small chuckle, “But I’ve had a lot of time to think.”

“Yeah.”

“I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“I think so.”

“You are one of the most important people in my life,” he easily says, and I’m envious of that easy freedom with his emotions, “I don’t know who I would be without you. And I will always be here for you. Even when you walk ‘outside’ with whatever burdens you’re carrying.”

I really don’t know how to feel about any of this. These are words I was never meant to hear, let alone experience. These are not the sentiments of my past. I want to feel like they’re deceptive. I want to feel like they’re cloying and too emotive. But somehow, I don’t. Somehow, they land perfectly.

I know it’s all Quatre. I know it’s his doing. But I don’t resent it. It’s even a strange desire to welcome more of it. To be completely wrapped up in his kindness and compassion. I never had comforts like this and I can’t push down far enough the guilt for wanting more.

“Thank you,” I respond awkwardly.

“Of course.”

“I think…” I hold the phone tighter, “I think there’s something between…”

_Me and Duo._

I can’t say it, after all this I still can’t say it, so I don’t.

“Just check on Relena,” I reiterate.

“All right,” he agrees, “And Heero, could I ask you a favor?”

“Hm?”

“Check on Trowa for me.”

“Oh, he’s…” I don’t know what to say, I’m still learning new things about him, “Good. He’s doing fine.”

“Okay, I just…He isn’t as open as he used to be.”

“He used to be open?” I ask and seriously mean it.

Quatre laughs, though, at that. “I guess you’re right. But sometimes, I wonder what all of us are hiding behind our closed doors…”

***

Quickly I acclimate to the cadence of the circus life alongside Trowa. I can see what he was talking about with the similarities of living with mercenaries. We get up early, set up for the day, keeping busy until the night, and working late into the night to clean up from the performance. And then getting up early again to do it all over.

There’s enough variance in the day to keep it interesting. I notice there’s always metaphorical fires to be put out – ropes that get twisted, costumes misplaced, animals’ temperaments changing, legalities, temporarily lost children, and such.

Thankfully I don’t have to decline any time in the spotlight, as I’m just given tasks to do. Simple, meaningless tasks that somehow leave me feeling accomplished and tired enough at the end of the day that I sometimes forget to take my shoes off before falling asleep. It's comfortable.

Catherine is kind to me, was somewhat guarded at first, but Trowa might have said something because over time, she’s more open. She’s the type to notice little things, like preferred foods or colors. Sometimes she jokes about when I was with them last and I don’t mind it. She’s never asked why I’m here, what happened to Relena, or what my plans are. She allows me to be reserved and aloof, and honestly, it’s a nice change of pace. To be honest, with everything that’s been happening, to not be questioned or noticed is a welcomed deviation.

I wonder, over the next few weeks, if Trowa will ever ask for my patience and absence from his trailer for the night, but he hasn’t. Neither has he brought up the club, nor pushed to bring me there again. If we go out, it’s to cheap greasy spoons or forgotten dives. To be honest, that’s also a nice change of pace. Relena would never come to the places he takes me, but there’s a charm to them and they make me feel unexpectedly nostalgic.

We’re in a small American-style greasy spoon late at night and it reminds me of _him_. I look down at my eggs and hash browns for a little too long.

“What’s up?” Trowa asks over his chipped coffee mug.

“This place reminds me of something...a long while ago.”

“Oh,” he says unobtrusively, “Good or bad?”

“Hm,” I wonder, “Not really sure.”

He’s quiet, but watches me as he drinks.

“When I was younger, we’d stop in places like this,” I tell him like he knows exactly who I’m talking about, but don’t feel like going into the details, “We bounced colonies a lot. We always ate out somewhere. But I just remembered, he’d always order for me. I just remembered that he’d sometimes make a face with the eggs and bacon. He wasn’t usually like that. But…he’d sometimes do that. I have no idea why. I never asked for it.”

“….Your father?” It’s very, very low, and I almost didn’t catch it. He says it like it’s secret, when it really isn’t. It shouldn’t be.

“No,” I tell him, “But…he was in my earliest memories. I’d often play his son. Mostly to disarm any suspicion from him.”

He nods and takes another sip.

After a beat, he says, “The captain of our mercenary group sometimes would do things like that…Little things. He’d set up tin cans and taught me how to set my aim. We almost played catch once. I think he felt obligated. But…it wasn’t bad.”

I try to search my memories of Odin and most of them are isolating. Not exactly painful, just very lonely. I would be left for hours at times. Or I would have to come with him and create a cover. There were a few times he’d get frustrated and rage on for what felt like hours.

Sometimes I thought he was afraid of me, even though he taught me how to kill, and how and where to maim. I would catch him watching me with wariness. He only touched me if he was showing a technique, or if we were undercover. He avoided me when possible. Even when he talked to me, it was if he was talking to himself...

“Quatre sometimes talks about his father,” Trowa mentions calmly, “And I hate to say it, but…I think I’m half grateful that I didn’t know my father and half envious that he knew his when I didn’t know mine.”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“Would you have become a father if she would’ve wanted?” he asks suddenly and I wasn’t ready for the question or the sudden recollection of Relena.

The words freeze in my veins before being pushed through with my steady heartbeats. His demeanor is only serenely curious.

“Yes…I still would consider it if she wanted to keep the marriage.”

His eyebrows quirk. “Heero Yuy, a father…Huh.”

I shrug and break the yolks into the hash browns.

“But it’s not because you want a child, a lineage – it’s because she would want to. Right?”

I sigh, “Trowa…”

“It’s just surprising.”

“And what about you? What did your girlfriend have to say about it?”

“I told her up-front that I don’t want any children.”

“…Oh.”

He looks uneasily to the side before finding my gaze again. “It’s…healthy to be able to want things in your relationship. And to come to an agreement. To have your own input.”

“Trowa,” I warn again and re-focus on my eggs.

“Relationships aren’t one way.”

“If she wanted it, I would have,” I firmly state again.

He shakes his head slowly, but I don’t take the bait. So, he digs in deeper.

“Have you talked to Duo?” He asks.

“Have you talked to Quatre?” I snap back in an even tone.

His lips quirk into a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You tell me,” I mutter, feeling more perturbed.

Eyes narrowing, he takes another sip of lukewarm coffee.

“I thought relationships weren’t meant to be one way,” I say and that pisses him off. I can see that hard, obscuring mask set back into place. Yeah, he’s definitely upset.

“Heero, you can be a real asshole,” he mutters, and we finish our meal in silence. I don’t disagree because he’s right.

When we walk out the door to leave, he hands me his keys. “How about you go back alone?”

Suits me just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this many, many years ago. I'm just now settling into here...


End file.
